Skip to main content

Full text of "Pantomime, March 25, 1922"

See other formats


Marcf) 25 


Why I Married 

By Pauline Frederick 

Breakfast with 
Ben Turpin 

Niles Welch the 

■' -■■■ 

Stories by 

Jack Holt 
Constance Binney 

and others 












*nore /Toslo 


( omoMej i^InonoSrap/is: 

'anlomimelxiaders Avoios 

6 Elk-Hart 



Special Sport Roadster . . 


Special Sport Roadster . . 


Touring Car 





94 Pathe 

4 Art Models 
10 Art Models 
10 Cabinet Models 
10 Cabinet Models 
10 Cabinet Models 
50 Cabinet Models 

$425.00 Each 
175.00 Each 
175.00 Each 
150.00 Each 
125.00 Each 
85.00 Each 


It starts 
in the 



The First Prize will be given to the person with 
the largest number of votes; the Second Prize to 
the person having the next largest number of 
votes, and so on. In case of ties, the full prize 
offered will be given each person so tying. 


Volume 2 
$5.00 a year 

Number 12 
10 Cents a Copy 

Published weekly by Movie Topics. Inc.. 
1600 Broadway, New York City. 
President, Murrey LazaruS; Secretary and 
Treasurer., Albert Singer. 

MARCH 25, 1922 

'Pantomime" entered as second class mail 
matter, under the act of March 3, 1879 — 
By subscription. $5.00 the year. Canada. 
$6-00 the year, single copy 19c. 

Copyright 1922 by Movie Topics. Inc 

Who says Mode Stars haven't a tough job — on cold Jays? The above scene, for instance, was "shot" whan 

the thermometer was hovering around the W. k- zero mark- It shows a neat study in contrasts. Note the 

heavy otercoat With which Director Frank Urson is bundled up — as compared to the thin stuff 

draping Mary Miles Minter. And Mary had to smite and look happy. The fruit. 

of course, is nothing but 



Page Four 


So I Said to the T'ress zAgent 

By Vic and Cliff 

EDITOR'S NOTE. — Each week on OHm page, the editor and his chief assistant will chat on this and that, principally that. They intend 
to express their honest convictions (never too seriously) and do not ask V»u to agree with them. Nor do they ask V<>«. particularly, to 
disagree with them. Use your own judgment. There will be some "knocks." a few "boosts" and a general attempt at fairness all around. 

SPEAKING generally, you can say most anything about a press agent 
and be pretty nearly right. 
But whatever you say, you've got to admit one thing: They 
usually are "sold" on their own stuff. 

That is to say, they really believe the picture they happen to be boosting 
at the time is the greatest ever put out by anybody. 

It may be merely a form of self hypnosis. Probably it is. But they 
believe it just the same. Which is a good thing, because otherwise most 
of them probably would throw up their jobs and really go to work! 

For instance, there is a chap 
whose office is hard by that of 
PANTOMIME, Brown by name. 
He draws pay from a man named 
I nee. 

A few weeks ago Mr. Ince put 
Out what he called a "super-fea- 
ture" entitled "Hail the Woman." 

Came suddenly a telegram tell- 
ing Brown all about this super- 
feature. A couple of days there- . 
after came the film for a very 
strictly private showing. 

And then into our sanctum 
sanctorum came Mr. Brown, all 
elated, jubilant, alive with the 
fact that he had the greatest fea- 
ture that had ever taken two-bit 
pieces away from the unsuspecting 

Clif and I doubted it. Being 
friendly with him. we told him so. 
But was he feazed? Not a bit of 
it. He thought we were kidding 
him. He was so sure that he in- 
vited us up to the First National 
projection room to look it over our- 

We went. We saw. We came 
away — silent I 

Now, it is seven fit ors down 
from the projection rooms of the 
First National to the ground — 
and some of the elevators are 
"express" and some of them aren't. 
The one we were on wasn't. So 
Brown caught us at the ground 

He looked something like the 
Cheshire cat in "Alice in Wonder- 
land." Which is to say, he was 
just naturally tickled to death. 
But he tried to hide it. 

"Well," he bubbled. "What did 
you think of it?" 

Whereupon the exhausted pa- 
tience of Cliff burst forth — and for 
once in his life he said what he 
really thought. 

He began by saying the whole 
darn thing was rotten. Then he 

asked why in the name of Sam Hill a beautiful, inherently pure girl, who 
had made up her mind to sell herself would do it just for a pair of baby 
shoes when the baby and she herself were both starving? Why not get 
a club sandwich at least? 

In the second place, why should a girl to whom even so much as an 
evil thought was repugnant pick out a Bowery loafer when she had chances 
to get so many men whom she really liked? 

Thirdly, why dive to disgrace for shoes for a baby who couldn't even 
walk? And why not at least get stockings — because the picture showed 
the baby didn't have any? 

Three Times and In to Stay — Her Third Mar- 
riage Explained (by Paulint Frederick) Pages 8 and 9 

My Start in Pictures 

(by Constance Binney and Jack Holt) Page 23 

"Court Stuff" (by Ruth Roland) Page 6 

Wrapping the Peach (by Phyllis Saunders) Page 1 1 

The Kitchen Queen of the Movies 

(by Myrtle Gebhart) Page 1 4 

An Irish Lyric (by Margaret Maurice) Page 7 

Eustace Gets Confidential 

(Another Outburst by Our Office Boy) Page 1 5 

The Sign of the Trident (a Novelette) Pages 18 and 19 

Breakfast with Ben Turpin (by Bob Dorman) . . Page 26 
Making Pictures to the Tune of "Annie Laurie" 

(by Charles L. Gartner) Page 1 3 

The Little Girl with the Christmas Tree Eyes 

(by Margaret Maurice) Page 28 

Can Such Things Be? — An ActressWho Admits 

Success Came Easy (by Felicia Fenton) Page 10 

Welch, the Bolshevik (by Carlton Armstrong) ... Page 24 
The "Pearl White" of Europe (by Mark Vance) Page 12 

How to Get into the Movies 

(a Photographic Series by Charles Duprcz) Page 27 

Nightie-Night (a Page of "After Dark" Fashions) Page 25 

Outside the Studio (Intimate Snapshots of Stars) Page 5 

Big Moments in Pictures You Haven't Seen . Pages 16 and 17 

Pantomime Paragraphs (by Myrtle Gebhart) Page 22 

A Page of Comics (Drawn by Fred R. Morgan). Page 29 

So I Said to the Press Agent (by the Editors) Page 4 

Fandom Notes, Studio Jottings and Questions 

and Answers Page 30 

Your Chance to Get into the Movies 

(by Charles Singer. Publisher of PANTOMIME). Pages 20 and 21 


Our $22,000 Contest Page 2 

Pantomime's "Big Four" Contest Page 31 


Betty Compson and Theodore Kosloff Front Cover 

A Study in Contrasts — Mary Miles Minter and 

Director Frank Urson Page 3 

Cullen Landis Back Cover 

And lastly, as they used to say. is it decent for a fallen woman to send 
her spooky ghost back and pan an innocent child on the head while his 
still more innocent mother is getting ready to marry — thereby scaring 
both mother and child to death and just raising hell generally? 

Brown listened to us with a fading smile. 

But was he convinced the film was rotten? He was not. 

He still thinks we were kidding him. 

PETE SMITH was in the office this week. 
Pete is the original, or nearly so. of the genus press agent. 

We thought something had 
happened to Pete for it had been 
nearly six weeks since we were 
notified tha.t Micky Neilan was 
the world's greatest director. Pete 
is press agent for Micky. When 
he came into the office we dis- 
covered that he had been playing 
wet nurse to Wesley Barry on a 
tour of personal appearances. 
"It's great stuff." says Pete. 
"Everybody wanted me to give 
them the low down on the Taylor 
case. Because I live in Hollywood 
they thought I ought to know all 
about it. 1 had to disappoint but 
couldn't get out of telling them 
some of the horrid details of 
dissipation in Hollywood. 

"I admitted that 1 had seen 
several flagrant cases of dissolu- 
tion. One night, about half past 
nine I saw a man come out of one 
of the biggest drug stores in the 
city. He just got outside the 
door when he sprinkled some 
white powder on the back of his 
hand and sniffed it eagerly. Then 
he turned around and went back 
into the drug store. I followed 
him and was there in time to hear 
him say: 'You gave me lily of the 
valley and I wanted lilac' 

"Even the children are loose 
morally. One evening Wesley 
Barry insisted on my going out 
to his home when his aunt was 
out. We lowered all the curtains 
in the house, and turned out all 
the lights exeept one in the best 
room in the house. Wes produced 
a piece of white stuff and drew a 
ring in the middle of the rug and 
we played marbles until nearly 
half past nine. 

"Of course they wanted to know 
about the wild women of the 
place — if they really pursued men 
the way it had been reported. I 
had to tell them about one night 
just after leaving a building where 
I had a business appointment in the down-town district, I was accosted in 
a familiar manner by one of the prettiest and most lovable girls I ever 
saw in my life. 

" 'How about a little drink before we turn in for the night?" she asked, 
staring me boldly in the eye. 

" 'Listen, sweetie', I said, 'I guess you'll have to pay for this'. 

"That's about all I've been doing since I married you,' she retorted. 
"Then Mrs. Smith and myself went on home." 

That's Pete's version of the toughness of Los Angeles. Pete says they 
are the worst stories he could tell. 

Our duty is sacred — for Pantomime, the mother of 
the Moving Picture, determines the future—deter- 

mines it because Visualization is the mother of Thought. 
And Thought controls the destiny of the nation. 

Editorial Offices: 1600 Broadway, New York 

Victor C. Olmsted, Editor-in-Chief 

March 25, 1922 


Page Five 

utside The Mudi 

Viora Daniel, in 
practicing /or her next 
comedy, got a great deal 
more than the title of 
the picture — "Cold 
Feet" —called for. Un- 
til she got used to snow 
shoes there was a whole 
lot more of her than her 
feet that came in con- 
tact with the snow. 

There are always leaves 
to be raided in the woods of 
California, and that's kinda 
lucky for Marcia Manon, 
for racing leases is the ex- 
ercise she enjoys most. Of 
course, she isn't old enough 
to have done it much, still — 
rather a rakish life for a 
youngster, eh, wot? 

And here is Eugene 
O'Brien in a convict's suit 
which has been to the laun- 
dry so often the stripes are 
washed out. We trust this 
picture was taken outside 
the studio, for we'd hate to 
think that he got up so late 
one morning that he didn't 
have time to change. 

Doug Fairbanks' next picture is laid in England at the time of the 
crusades and he is practicing archery every spare moment. It takes 
a wife to tell a man how rotten he is, so of course, it is Mary Pick- 
ford who is acting as the critic. 

Eddie Polo has a most persistent chaperon in the person of his 
clever daughter, Malveen, ever since he went in business for himself. 
Here he is greeting Eileen Sedgwick, who used to be his leading lady, 
with Malveen curiously interested. 

Page Six 

By Ruth Roland 

fAWN TENNIS is generally considered an 
old-time game — but it isn't. As a matter 
t J of fact, its origin in its present form dates 
back less than thirty years. But it did have an 
ancestor, although its genealogy is a bit obscure. 
The best of authorities disagree as to its direct 
parentage. All agree, however, that the game of 
today has features very reminiscent of the older 

The amusement lovers of ancient Rome were 
the first people known to have played with a 
ball in a game in which a number of players 
tossed or struck a ball from one point to another 
for sport. 

In Europe, however, the first record of Tennis 
occurred in the Middle Ages, when a crude game, 
which afterwards developed into Court Tennis, 
was the favorite sport of the Italian and French 
Kings and Queens. The game came to France 
from Italy and both played it assiduously in the 
open air. Later it became a favorite game with 
the masses and in the years following Tennis 
gradually evolved into a popular pastime. 

As one Tennis authority has rightfully said: 
"The day will come in America when the Tennis 
professional will be as much the equipment of a 
tennis club as the golf professional is now of the 
golf club — in other words, the proper way to 
learn how to play tennis is to start with a good 
teacher and devote one's self exclusively to form 
Certain correct principles as to hitting the ball, 
holding the racket, footwork and body balance 
are best learned from a teacher who will take 
care that the beginner starts on the right track." 

Flowever, not everyone can afford such an 
instructor and most of us, when we start playing 
Tennis, think it's simply a matter of hitting the 
ball so it will fall into the court on the opposite 
side of the net. We do not consider just how 
the swing is made and seldom make our stroke 
twice in the same form. Of course, no two per- 
sons can make precisely the same motions — 
neither do two people ever make the same kind 
of a drive in golf for that matter — but one can 
retain the natural motions and yet by practice 

evolve the "machine-like stroke" that makes for 
good Tennis. 

Do not hit the ball with a short, jerky movement, 
entirely with an arm movement, but use and 
co-ordinate the entire muscular system of your 
body toward obtaining a long, free stroke. 

Good Tennis is scientific and splendid mental, 
as well as physical exerci?e. One must not only 
stand correctly, but also watch that the feet are 
in correct position as well. 1 mean you must see 
that your weight is evenly divided on both feet, 
which should be on a line parallel to the net. 
with the balance thrown slightly forward. This 
position permits of a quick start in any given 
direction and the racket, held in both hands 
across the body, gives a steadiness as one moves 
to hit the ball. 

When waiting for service, always remember to 
balance the racket in both hands; and it will be 
found a great aid to speed if the racket is invar- 
iably returned to that position after making any 
return stroke. 

The principal thing to remember in service is 
that the ball should be hit from a point as high 
as possible above the head. In regard to the 
speed, the ball should be only hit sufficiently hard 
as is consistent with the certainty of placing a 
large percentage within the bounds of the receiv- 
ing court. The ball should be "placed" enough 
at least to interfere with a sharp and aggressive 
return; for many excellent players are kept con- 
stantly in trouble by being forced to a very slow 
and safe second service, because of too swift a 
first ball, with its consequent irregularity. 

The three main points to this play are, then : 
first, the correct position of one's feet; second, 
keeping the ball far enough from the body, and, 
third, whether to play the ball as it rises from 
the ground or as it drops from the highest point 
of the bound. 

In hitting the ball, the racket should be held 
in a natural grip, which will allow the full face 
to be toward the ball. 

The most important part of making the proper 

swing is to keep the racket as nearly parallel to 
the ground as possible. In other words, the head 
of the racket should not be allowed to drop below 
the line of the player's wrist. One who plays 
with his racket straight up and down will never 
gain steadiness nor be able to place the ball with 
any degree of precision; 

Another well-known authority on Tennis has 
said: "While it is perfectly true that the founda- 
tion of good Tennis is a strong fore and backhand 
ground stroke, it is wise to keep in mind that 
these are only part of one's stroke equipment, 
and that from the first the aim should be to 
master a full assortment of strokes to meet all 
conditions of play — for it is only after mastering 
a complete repertory of strokes that one feels 
free to combine the back court and the volleying 
game, as they should be combined." 

Major Walter C. Wingfield, of the British 
Army, is credited with the "invention of Lawn 
Tennis," and it was he who patented the game 
in 1874. His original game was played on a 
court shaped like an hour-glass, sixty feet in 
length and thirty feet in width at the base lines. 
At first the game was played very slowly, but 
soon many changes in the rules permitted an 
increase of speedier play. 

Almost simultaneously with its introduction into 
England, Tennis was brought to America and the 
first court was laid out by a Bostonian at Nahant 
(a seaside resort near Boston). A court at New- 
port made its appearance the following spring 
and in 1875 the Staten Island Cricket and Base 
ball Club added Tennis to its sports. Also, at 
Philadelphia, the same year, courts were laid 
out by this Young America Cricket Club. 

Much has been said of the importance of 
thinking in Tennis — and as is true with every 
other sport, it is of vast importance. There is a 
reason for the way every point is played and if a 
player does not think and reason as to exactly 
"why I lost," or "how it was I was fortunate 
enough to win," he will never make much of a 
player. This, incidentally, app! es just as truly 
to other games. 

March 25, 1922 


Page Seven - 

zAn Irish Lyric 

By Myrtle Gebhart 

'I haven't reached 

"Oh, that!" she scoffed, 
that yet." 

And no matter how hard I teased I couldn't 
get any information about that gallant Irish 
swain whose golden circlet she is rumored to be 

"She has come up so suddenly," you hear on 
every side. 

"Discovered" by Griffith (who wasn't?), Col- 
leen has shot up like a skyrocket. Five years 
ago, when she was fifteen, she was en route home 
to Tampa, Florida, from school in the Conserva- 
tory of Music at Detroit. Stopping off in Chi- 
cago to attend a friend's dinner-party, she met 
Mr. Griffith, who offered her work in pictures. 
She played the ingenue with Bobby Harron in 
"The Bad Boy." 

Though it is said she appealed to Mr. Griffith 
because of her charming vivacity, he contradic- 
torily started her along a weeping route, which 
led her eventually, to Marshal Neilan's colony of 
lovely leading ladies. "Mickey," however, 
brought out in her, besides her amazing ability 
to start the showers on order, her real coquetry 
and delightful personality. 

She touched first base in her Christie comedy- 
cocktails — in "So Long Letty." A queen 
f comedy, she did not swim the 
waterway high on the 
beach above the tide to 
fame in the weeping 
maelstrom. She wept 
first — mayhap 

No, she isn't trying 

to vamp this young man. 

We don't believe she could, 

even if she wanted to. For 

he happens to be her brother Clive, just lately out of 

college. He works J or Colleen as an extra. 

SHE is a coral and crystal girl. 
She reminds me of a Vysekal spring 

She is like ice-cream at a church sociable. 

There is a sparkling flourish to Colleen Moore, 
an Irish humor and naturalness. As I talked 
with her the wistful tread of all the ingenues of 
all the years passed mentally before me down the 
carpet of memory. She is like unto none of them, 
yet somehow seems to have captured a bit of 
the grace of each. Colleen, by the way, has 
ceased to be an ingenue — she now is the highest- 
paid leading woman before the camera and I 
wouldn't be at all surprised to see her tripping 
out some day soon with a star contract tucked 
under her arm- 
Colleen is round and rosy and healthy — obvi- 
ously corn-fed, though her press-agent might 
prefer my using more romantic terms. But 
there's nothing romantic about Colleen- — she's 
as natural as a glass of milk. 

The day I talked last with her the weather was 
like a vain debutante, casting meaningless, golden 
glances from a blue-and-gold lacquered sky. It 
seemed somehow a rightful shedding of light 
upon one of the most colorful little personalities 
I have met in a long, long time. 

"Life," sj»e said, when I asked her for some 
startling statement so's I could put it in my 
interview, "is a short period during which one 
lives, loves and gets run over by automobiles. 
As to the hving, I m doing it, with all my power!" 

And let me interpose right here that Colleen 
has a particular gift for the living of life so as to 
get the most fun out of it— I do wish she would 
give me her recipe I 

"As tp the autos — I'm tired of dodging," she 
grinned vindictively, "so I have a car of my own 

now, and I ' 

m going to- 

She broke off 

suggestively, and I don't fancy it's going to be 
very healthy for pedestrians around her neigh- 
borhood. She bought a chauffeur to match the 
new car, but his wife inherited $20,000, so Colleen 
now drives herself.' 

"About the love part — "I suggested tentatively. 

leen has 
ceased to 
genue — she 
now is the high- 
est-paid leading 
woman before the 

turned, to comedy as a relief. In "The Lotus 
Eater" she suggested the present Colleen Moore 
being brought to a high polish by Goldwyn — the 
personality that so clings to your remembrance, a 
mingling of laughter and tears. 
Life is now in }t* morning. She sees everything 
(Continued on page 30) 

Page Eight 


March 25, 1922 

Three Times — and in to Stay 

By Pauline Frederick 

1 THINK the answer to the above is that I had 
to acknowledge that I felt a good deal as 
Clementina did. Clementina, you know, is the 
dowdy artist heroine of W. J. Locke's well-known 
novel, and byastrange coincidence I was engaged 
in making a scene for my photoplay based on 
this story when I met Dr. Charles Rutherford, 
my husband. 

Of course, it was not the first time I had met 
him — but it was the first time in eleven years, 
and one would think that my absolutely unat- 
tractive appearance in the garb of Clementina 
would have frightened him away. But it didn't 
seem to. It was just a few evenings later that he 
asked me to slip away with him to Santa Ana 
and be married. I consented. 

It was something unpremeditated on my part. 
I had thought I would never marry again. But 
when a man tells you he has loved you faithfully 
for thirty-five years — well, they say love begets 
love and I guess that is true. No matter how 
independent she may be. a woman at last comes 
1 to the realization that she needs someone bigger 
and stronger than herself upon whom to lean. 
A career is all very well, but it cannot make up 
for the absence of love. And there is something 
so noble, so unselfish about a big love that 
remains faithful through such a long period of 
time that it would be a stolid woman indeed who 
did not at last give some response to it. Cer- 
tainly. I am not that woman. 

In Dr. Rutherford I have found all the quali- 
ties which I most admire in a man. To describe 
him — well, he is the sort of person who makes 
you think of football reunions when old grads. 
come back to college to tell how the school s tra- 
ditional enemy was routed in their day. He 
suggests the college athlete of a few years ago who 
has had the wisdom to remain in condition. Big 
of frame, ruddy of face, he has the sort of per- 
sonality which radiates good fellowship He 
answers the description: a solid, substantial 
American citizen. 

I don't think I could ever be attracted to a 
man who was not interested in the outdoors. I love it so myself. That's 
part of the charm of this big West for me. Dr. Rutherford is a graduate of 
McGill University in Montreal, and in 1899 and 1900 he held the record 
for the whole of Canada in the 120-yard hurdles, the high and broad jumps. 
He also won a reputation in football and baseball and although that was 
more than twenty years ago, he looks fit to go back and do it all over again. 

Our romance? It began when we were both mere children. Dr. Ruther- 
ford and I are second cousins. My grandparents lived in Madrid, N. Y., 
and Dr. Rutherford's boyhood home was in Waddington ,only a few miles 

a woman has been dis- 
appointed tn looe and 
then marries the third 
time, there must be some 
interesting reason behind 

That was the thought 
which came to us when 
we heard that Pauline 
Frederick, had married a 
third time. We were 
curious to know as to 
why Dr. Charles A. 
Rutherford had appealed 
to her so strongly that she 
could forget the sorrows 
of her two precious ex- 
periences as a wife and 
take a third husband. 

A woman might marry 
a third time, we rea- 
soned, if she needed 
financial support. This 
could not apply to Miss 
Frederick, for her earn- 
ings are more than ade- 
quate for any demand 
she might make on them. 

Again, the man chosen 
for a third husband 
might have had a part 
in wrecking the second 
venture. This did not 
apply to Miss Frederick- 

Motion picture stars, 
of course, are not per- 
mitted the privacy which 
is the inherent right of 
less prominent people. 
Stilt, the reasons for a 
third marriage is rather 
an intimate thing. But 
we were curious, and 
finally presuming upon 
our position, we asked 
the question bluntly: 

" Why did you marry 
a third time?" 

The following is Miss 
Frederick" s own answer. 


1 he bride and groom in 
the hall of the beautiful home 
of Miss Frederick, in the heart of 
the Los Angeles film colony. 

The boudoir in the home of Miss Frederick.. Dr. and Mrs. Rutherford will 
make their future home here. 

from there. I fre- 
quently went down 
from my home in Bos- 
ton to visit on my 
grandparents' farm 
and "Charlie'' Ruther- 
ford and I played together. He tells me now that he has loved me ever 
since those long-ago days. Of course, I didn't know it then. Not until he 
walked onto the set at R-C studios where I was made up as the dowdy, 
unattractive Clementina did Fate swing our lives 
back into the same channel again. 

Years intervened between those happy child- 
hood days and our recent meeting in Los Angeles. 
They were years filled with triumph and adver- 
sity, happiness and heartaches. My career took 
me onto the stage, then into the films. Dr. 
Rutherford, after graduating from college, moved 
to Seattle, Washington, where he practiced his 

He had never been inside a motion picture 
studio until his recent trip to California. AH 
that he knew of stage and screen was what he 
had learned from "out in front." At the time 
he arrived in Los Angeles 1 was busy head over 
heels in making the screen version of "The Glory 
of Clementina." I had simply thrown myself 
into the part. I tried to make myself the exact 
counterpart of Mr. Locke's slovenly heroine. 

My clothes were ill-fitting and old-fashioned. 
My hair, stringy and unkempt, was wound care- 
lessly about my head with the sole idea of keep- 
ing it out of the way. My hat would have been 
considered passe by the original members of the 
Floradora company. I was almost hideously 
unattractive. I say so deliberately after a long 
look in a mirror. From my make-up box I pro- 
duced wrinkles on my forehead and deep lines 
in my face. 

And then — came that wonderful and unex- 
pected trip to Santa Ana, the little county seat 
some thirty-five miles from Los Angeles. For 
our wedding supper we stopped at a little way- 
side lunch counter and munched "hot dog" 
sandwiches all the way home. I think we estab- 
lished a record for simplicity in weddings. We 

March 25. 1922 


Page Nine 

Dr. Rutherford had his first glimpse in eleven 
years of the woman who is now his wife when she 
was wearing this garb. 

returned to my home 
in Beverly Hills and 
announced our mar- 
riage. Even "Mumsie" 
(my mother) had no 
idea that she was about 
to acquire a son-in-law. 
Oh, yes, I forgot to 
say that Louise Dresser 
and Jack Gardner, the 
stage and vaudeville 
favorites, who have 
long been intimate 
friends of mine, accom- 
panied us to Santa 
Ana. The only others 
present were my maid, 
Elise, and my chauf- 

Our wedding was on 
Saturday. On Monday 
I went to the studio as 
usual and resumed 
work on "Clementina." 
By a strange coinci- 
dence, on that day we 
had reached the place 
!ii the script where 
Clementina, long a 
dowdy grub, absorbed 
in her career, has been 
awakened by love and 
blossoms forth in a 
wonderful gown. a 
radiant, resplendent 
woman. There was a 
big ball room and din- 
ner scene and from my 
place in front of the 
camera 1 could look 
over to the corner 
where my big. splendid husband was watching me with eyes full of interest 
and admiration. 

People were dropping in all day to congratulate us. so we did not get 
a whole lot of work done. Every time I walked across the set the studio 
orchestra would burst forth into the strains of Lohengrin's wedding march. 
It was strange that my own life events should happen just as Clementina's 
did. You know,, when Clementina found love she realized that it was the 
greatest thing in the world and she found that her art was made all the 
better for it. 1 am very, very happy, but I do not intend to give up my 
work in pictures. I shall keep right on. Only f believe that 1 will be able 
to put a lot of my new-found content and happiness into my work for 
the screen. • 

Here ended the story of her third marriage as written by Miss Freder 
ick. The omens, according to her, 
are all for the happiest period of her 
life, and in judging the worth of the 
omens as she sees them, it is well to 
review her experience. 

It was at the height of her succe.\- 
as a musical comedy star that 
Miss Frederick, met her first 
husband — Frank. Andrews, a 
wealthy and noted New York ' 
architect. Her career as .an 
actress was to be abandoned for 
the greater career as the wife 
so said the announcements. 
The marriage took place and 
Miss Fredericks name disap- 
peared from the bright lights 
of the theatres. 

Several months later came the announce 
ment that Miss Frederick had returned in 
the stage. Almost simultaneously the news 
leaked out that she had sued for divorce. The cause 
of the unhappiness was never announced, but it was 
rumored that Air. Andrews had failed in his con- 
tract to compensate her in devotion for the sacrifice 
of her pleasure in the theatre. The divorce was 

For a long lime Miss Frederick was happy in her 
art. Then Willard Mack came into her life. 
He was of the theatre — had the understanding 
of how acting entered into the life of the 
individual and how much it had to do with 
the happiness of an actress. They were 

Shortly after Miss Frederick went into 
pictures. Separations were a necessity for Miss 
Frederick did her work in California while New 
York was the center of Mr. Mack's activities. Thru 
were with each other as frequently as possible and 
everything was lovely. Then Mr. Mack went to 

Dr. Charles A. Rutherlord, whose persistent 
thirly-five-year love for Pauline Frederick finally 
won her. 

California and a few 
months later the end of 
the second romance was 
announced by the filing 
of a divorce suit by Miss 
Much publicity was 
attached to this suit. 
The newspapers printed 
columns about it, but in 
none of the statements 
was the rock that had 
wrecked the second choice 
named. Members of the 
film colony had their 
own ideas, but it was 
plain that it had not 
been caused by another 
woman. After the di- 
vorce was granted Miss 
Frederick has had noth- 
ing but praise for Mr, 
Mack whenever his 
name is mentioned. Mr. 
Mack sought the news- 
papers as a medium for 
letting the world know of 
his great love and respect 
for Miss Frederick, but 
the breach was never re- 

Now. for a third hus- 
batxd. Miss Frederick 
has taken a childhood 
friend, a man who has 
loved her for thirty-five 
years. She believes she 
has found enduring 
happiness, and after 
reading her reasons for 
it, we sincerely believe 
she has. 

There was a lime, a little less than a year agone. when it seemed there would 
be a reconciliation. 

Mack came to New York on a business trip. His divorced wife was already 
in that city. 

They met— perhaps by chance -perhaps through the scheming of mutual 
friends who persisted in the belief that the pair were "just made for each other." 
At any rate, after that meeting, they saw a great deal of each other. 
They motored together. They lunched together. They walked through Cen- 
tral Park together. 

And, of course, they rode together. No one could even hope to be on much 
more than speaking acquaintance with Pauline Frederick unless they rode. 

As a matter of fact, her old-new husband, while he probably never will 
have to be jealous of a man. may find his star-wife looking off dreamily 
into space — and when he asks her what she is thinking about, may be told: 
"I was just worrying about my horse. 

But, to get back. Mack and "Miss" Frederick were together so 
much (so constantly is perhaps the better word) that even the 
newspaper men began to sit up and take notice. 

At first they had thought it merely one of the time-honored 
press-agent stunts. 

But, strangely enough — from the skeptical newspaper man's 
standpoint — neither of the pair seemed to want any publicity. 
As a matter of fact, they rather shunned it. 

And then Mack went back to that muchly advertised Hollywood . 
And "Miss" Frederick saw him off. Yea. verily, she did. 
She did still more. 

She kissed him good-bye. 
None of your stage kisses, either. 
A regular long, lingering, "oh-how-1 m-going- 
to-miss-you" kiss. 

At least, that's the way it looked to the reporters 
And so, straightway, they went back, ar >d wrote 
nice little pieces for their papers, telling how Pauline 
and Willard were all ready to get tied up again. 
Willard had promised to be very, very good, and 
Pauline had consented to do the usual feminine 
stuff, and be forgiving. 

So it was all settled. At least, in the newspapers'. 

"Miss" Frederick must have laughed mighty 
happily when she read those stories. Or maybe 
her laughter wasn't so very happy, at that! 

Maybe the laughter of the "Doctor" — // he 
laughed at all — wasn't so happy, either. 

There is reason for this belief, too. 

Because the Editor of PANTOMIME happens 
to know personally, that every doggone reporte 
who wrote the story of that impending re-marric 
got fired. 


A mutual lovt n) 
mildoor sports especially horse- 
bacfc riding, is one of the rea- 
sons why Dr. Rutherford's suit 
was sttccessful. 

Page Ten 


March 25, 1922 

Qan Such Things "Be? 

Merc's An Actress Who Actually Admits That Success Came Easy. 
By Felicia Fen ton 

C!"S start off with a few bromide*. Ready? Let*s go! 
The secret of success is hard work- 
Beauty alone is worthless. One must have patience, and perseverance. 
— and determination — and, most of all, one's career must be placed above ail 
else — home — friends — comfort — everything ! ! ! 

Success may be years in coming. One must begin at the beginning, and 
learn. One must ever be learning/ 

Anybody doubting any of the above worn-out sayings is invited to reaii 
the advice given by most any star to those ambitious to go into the movies. 

And why not? It sounds good. And a lot. of it may be true, at that! 

Besides, it's so romantic, and everything, to think of your favorite 
beginning at the very bottom rung of the ladder — as a lowly extra, maybe — 
and tortuously working his or herself up, and up, and up until finally he 
or she bursts forth in a blaze of stardom. 

Sweet nectar for press agents. Yea,' verily. 


Even at the risk of discouraging earnest young novices who pine to go 
out and suffer in their terrific battle with life, truth compels the statement 
that it isn't always that way. 

More remarkable still, there really is at least one actress who actually 
admits she didn't have to work very hard. 

The lady who so ruthlessly upsets all the time-honored dope of the "long- 
uphiii oiimb" squad is Florence Alter, who has the important role of Lu- 
crezia in the new Rex Beach production, "Fair Lady,'' soon to be released. 

Miss Auer frankly admits she did not start at the bottom of the theatrical 
ladder. She admits she never even played a so-called "small part." She 
started right off with the role of the Queen in "Hamlet." 

Now, I ask you, can such things be? 

i found Miss Auer in her dressing room at the Whitman Bennett studio, 
in Yonkers — in case you don't know it, that's a suburb of New York. 

Here s Miss Auer, on the extreme left, in one of the scenes of her 

latest picture. She has a lot of emoting to do 

in the role. 

"Of course, I've heard of the hardships this star and that had in getting 
their starts," she told me, "but to be perfectly frank, I avoided them — 
every last one! 

"I started my work before the camera at the inception of the motion 
picture, when Wallace McCutcheon was the director of the famous old 
Biograph. 1 worked with such 'beginners' as D. W. Griffith. Mack Sennett, 
Mary Pickford, Dorothy Davenport, Jeanie Macpherson, Ralph Ince, 
Bob Vignola, Sydney Olcott, Eddie Dillon, Owen Moore, Florence Turner 
and no end of other now famous stars. . 

"I did Shakespearean leads for Vitagraph, Biblical parts for Edison, 
society parts for Kalem and character parts for Biograph, and between 
times would sell them a screen story at from five to fifteen dollars apiece. 

I didn't know enough to stick to the 'disgraceful' movies, but went back 
to the legitimate with almost unbroken success, doing a picture every now 
and again and writing for them. 

"I was cast for a part in 'Drifting' at the Playhouse with Alice Brady, 
when nay opportunity came to act for Mr. Whitman Bennett in Rex 
Beach's newest picture, 'Fair Lady," and 1 decided to give up 'Drifting.' 

"I had played the lead in 'The Wanderer,' under Comstock and Gest, 
tleven hundred times — the beautiful Mother 'Huldah.' I succeeded 

For a 
long time 
— -almostfrom 
the beginning, in 
fact, she has special- 
ized in character roles. 

Nance O'Neill in the role and covered a period 
of three and a half years in it. 

"I had a long season with Robert B. Mantell, 
as his leading woman in Shakespearean repertoire, 
and before the Mantel] engagement I played the 
vampire in 'A Fool There Was' over five hun- 
dred times. I played in 'Ben Flur' for two 
seasons, and before that I was with Augustus 
Thomas. Then came the 'College Widow' days 
under Henry W. Savage, and the wicked Queen 
in William Faversham's beautiful production of 
Herod." By this time you must think that I 
am older than — but I'm not so old at that — 

"I never started at the bottom and never 
played a small, part in my life — my very first 
role was the Queen in "Hamlet." 

"I have written many original moving picture 
stories. Anita Stewart's 'Her Mad Bargain' is 

"And sh ■! I have written a play — but 

that's another story!" 

The interview was beginning to sound like a 
biographical sketch in a theatrical "Who's Who." 
I threw up my hands and cried, "I surrender." 

And then I begged Miss Auer to tell me how 

it happened that she'd literally jumped right 

down on the face of success, and landed- with 

both feet. "What's the answer?" I pleaded. 

And the Lady-Who-never-was-an-extra very 

frankly admitted that she didn't know. 

She also admitted, with equal frankness, that maybe luck had something 
to do with it. 

She not only didn't have anything to say about long nights of hard 
study, and longer days of toil. She didn't even lay claim to genius! 
Again I pondered: "Can such things be?" 

Can it be possible that a man or a girl can go into the movies and be suc- 
cessful right from the jump-off? 

The answer must be yes — because here's a girl who did it. 
But at the same time, I'm bound to admit there aren't many of them 
like that. 

And still fewer who'll admit it. 

Is one to understand that a young woman can actually succeed without 
having to vamp a director, or a producer, or somebody? 

Can it really be true that one can put herself over, merely by having ability? 
Surely not. 

If this be true, what are all our professional reformers going to do? 
What's to be done with all the tirades against the movies as the prize 
despoilers of girlish virtue? 

So, finally, can it be that a girl can succeed on just sheer merit? 

March 25 t 1922 


Wrapping the "Peach 

By Phyllis Saunders 

PEACHES" JACKSON^-christened Charlotte, 
but nobody ever remembers that — was 
thrilled to her very little toenails when 1 
told her that the big, important Editor of PANTO- 
MIME wanted her to pcee in her new spring ward- 
robe which Mother-Dear had just finished. 

"For the fashion page, where you put Miss 
Swanson an* Miss Coropson an' all the wondorful 
stars?" Her big brown eyes grew round. "Oh, 
my I" 

And what a busy little lady she was in the next 
hour. "Oh, dear me, don't make me wear that 
ole rag," she expostulated. "Why, I've had that 
ole thing for ages an' ages." Like most young 
ladies, Peaches feels that after you have worn a 
dress once, it's old. Though her salary is perfectly 
huge for such a wee person, nevertheless. Peaches 
doesn't get a new frock every time she happens to 
want one.. For Mother Jackson selects her clothes 
wisely, with an eye to their utilitarian value. 

"Little girls cannot be taught too early the value 
of economy," she says wisely. "A time of mis- 
fortune might come some day — and then it's lots 
nicer to have money in the bank than a wardrobe 
full of fancy things." 

Page Eleven 

"Mmm! guess that's right,' 
her quaint, Tittle-lady manner- 

Peaches agreed in 
"Still — " 

"This," say* Peaches, *'»» my very nicest frock, its 

white mull trimmed in baby Irish lace an insertion. 

See my sash?" 

"Mother-Dear won't let me have but two party- 
frocks at a time," Peaches whispered to me while 
changing for another pose. "An' she buys ginghams 
an* plain ole things an' things like that. An. some 
day when I 'm all grown up, I 'm going to have a 
dress like Miss Swanson's, all made out of pearls an' 
monkey-fur an" jewels. You just wait!" 

For Peaches, in spite of her almost phenomenal 
success on the silversheet, is being kept unspoiled 
by a very sensible mother. You know Peaches, 
of course — the child whose woeful pathos almost 
swiped the picture from Tommy Meignan in "A 
Prince There Was" — and certainly put the so-billed 
leading lady, Mildred Harris, 'way back in the 
shade. She is working now in Tommy's 'The 
Proxy Daddy," and the two are great friends. 

Tommy bestows upon Peaches the finest com- 
pliment stage- and picture-folk can give: "She's 
the best little trooper ever." And Peaches, has a 
way with her, has Peaches, of getting around every- 
body. I do not feel that my statement will be chal- 
lenged when I say that she is the most popular girl 
on the Lasky lot. 

Peaches takes her work — and her clothes — very, 
very seriously. Yet, in contrast to her almost 

?;rown-up reserve and dignity, is her childish love 
or the wonderful French doll Mary Pickfprd 
brought her from Paris. She was almost heart' 
broken because they wouldn't let the doll pose with 
her in all the pictures. 

In th« accompanying illustrations you see 
Peaches wearing some of her new spring wardrobe. 
You will see that It includes only sensible fabrics 
and trimmings. Yet what could be sweeter for the 
wee Shining Light in your own home than these 
little gingham and mull dresses and dark broad- 
cloth coat? 

A play dress of french gingham, trimmed in arganay. 

The French doll is a gift from Mary Pickford, and is 

Peaches' favorite "child." 

Here she is in a dress of green gingham with hat 
and bloomers to match. 

All dressed up in her Brand-new brown broadcloth 
coat, with brown and white taffeta hat to match. 

"Alt ready for the party" *« P^tk uta*h satin trimmed 
with real yatenetennes lace. 

Page Twelve 


March 25, 1922 

The "<Pearl White" of8uw 

By Mark Vance 

PEARL WHITE flashed in and out of picture 
serials so many times that the marathonic 
honors for consecutive continuity exploits 
and maneuvers have been bestowed upon her 
fair head without any dissenting opinion among 
the critics. And it may matter not whether the 
ubiquitous and ocean-commuting screen star 
appears the rest of her natural life in feature 
subjects and never works another serial story, 
the "chapter crown" will always cast a halo over 
her photoplay activities. 

Now, across seas there is a woman who has 
done a lot of work in "serials" too. So many, in 
fact, that her strenuous portrayal of a persecuted 
heroine who has gone through a thousand deaths, 
so to speak, only to emerge triumphant and face 
a new. peril, has resulted in her being dubbed "the 
Pearl White of Europe." This celluloid dynamo 
is none other than Mia May. 

(For the benefit of the readers and the thou- 
sands of American movie fans who will see her 
as the star of "The Mistress of the World," that 
is being released as a series of four Paramount 
pictures, her name is pronounced Mee-a-My.) 

Miss May's latest work is concentrated in a 
big production that was made under the banner 
of the U. F. A. Corporation in Europe, but 
which has been brought to the picture houses of 
this country by the Paramount Pictures Cor- 
poration and booked for general distribution 
throughout all that company's exchanges. Thus 
Paramount introduces to this side of the Atlantic 
"the Pearl White of Europe." 

Miss May comes from the land of Bohemia, 
and amid an environment that bespeaks the 
atmosphere of make-believe she adopted the 
stage as a profession. She was born in Prague, 
which has won great renown by being the capital 
of Bohemia. 

In her gay home-land, where she first turned 
her talents to the art of histrionic endeavor, she 
played in different roles at the Municipal Theatre 
in the Bohemian capital. She was assigned to 
this part and that — and gradually she became 
unusually proficient in all sorts of roles. 

From Prague Miss May went to Warsaw, 
where she became a member of the Dramatic Art 
Theatre of that city. Later she appeared in a 
number of prominent successes in various Euro- 
pean theatres. But her stage work was only a 
stepping stone to the pictures which called her 
and which found her a star in Europe over night. 
Her characterization on the screen of the stellar 
role in "Zaza" established her as worthy of the 
praise and attention bestowed upon her. 

Now it so happens that Joe May, who in pri- 
vate life is "Miss" May's husband, is a director 
of repute in foreign film circles. He and his wife 

about decided that a big serial 
theme that he had in mind was 
made to order for Mia. When a 
number of players were first con- 
sidered, none came up to require- 
ments so Joe May turned to his 
wife and said. "Mia, it's up to 
you to play the lead." 

So she did — and her work 
earned her the sobriquet of "Hie 
Pearl White of Europe." 

"The Mistress of the World," 
the first film in which she will be 
seen in America, runs through 
four episodes — each a complete 
story, but in continuity with the 

Here's a typical thriller scene, 
which might have been made in 
our own land. The man looks like 
Earle Williams, doesn't he? But 
he isn't. His name is Michael 
Bohnen. He's German. 



table and nursing a 

Miss May 
Pearl White- 
stunt — sitting at 
half-grown tiger cub. 

She looks not unlike our own Peart, which 

is to say she's very, eery easy to 

look upon. 

plot. The four parts are sub-titled as follows: 
(I) "The Dragon's Claw"; (2) "The Race for 
Life"; (3) "The City of Gold"; (4) "Saved by 

Sounds thrilly enough, doesn't it? 

The European production differs from the 
American serial idea in the sense that instead 
of two reels for each instalment the May story 
has 5,000 feet to each chapter. 

In the Pearl White comparison Miss May in no 
way resembles Pearl, save that she is a blonde 
and goes through a similar line of work. Miss 
May is considerably heavier in matter of avoir- 
dupois — not that she's fat — oh dear, no! Also, 
some say she appears to better advantage in her 
emotional scenes, due to her long association 
with the leading theatres of Continental Europe. 

In "The Mistress of the World" Miss May 
appears as a young Swedish student, who by 
the sudden death of her father is thrown upon 
her own resources. In her father's diary she 
finds a notation telling of a lost treasure of the 
Queen of Sheba and that it can be found if the 
key to the hiding place is obtained from an old 
hermit who lives in the interior of China. 

So on the fortune quest she goes. In China 
she is taken captive by the King of Beggars and 
time and again faces death. The story shifts to 
Darkest Africa, where repeated fights with canni- 
balistic tribes occur as well as close calls with 
voracious crocodiles that infest the waters she 
takes to escape the man-eating blacks. 

The "Mistress of the World" story keeps Miss 
May moving. And the picturized version of 
Carl Figdor's romance of mystery and adventure 
of the Old World was considered so fascinating 
and sensational that the Paramount heads lost 
no time in getting it for their American theatres. 

Her European fans are confident that Miss 
May, now unknown in the States, will score a 
knockout hit by her serial "pearlwhiting" 
over here. 

March 25, 1922 


Page Thirteen 

<^hCaking zJWovies to the Tune of "zAnnie J^gurie" 

By Charles L. Gartner 

PARADOXICAL as it may seem, the "silent 
drama" is no longer silent. In fact, it 
never was silent, at least not in the making. 

Times were when a couple of players and a 
director would retire to one corner of the studio 
and, midst the bang of the carpenter's hammer 
and the cries of the property man, enact a death- 
bed scene that was supposed to reduce the most 
case-hardened movie fan to sympathetic tears. 
And oftimes — this was in the days of the one 
and two reel "feature" — the big punch scene had 
to be halted while the director, the dead mother 
and her heartbroken daughter ran for shelter 
behind the scenery until the bombardment of 
stray custard pies from the comedians on the 
next set had been halted- 

Under these circumstances were actors and 
actresses supposed to do good work. Small 
wonder, then, that almost eighty per cent of the 
scenes in the earlier motion pictures were taken 
in the open, where an actor did not have to stuff 
his ears, or keep one eye peeled for any stray 
missile that might come flying through the air. 

But the day of nerve-racking noises during 
the taking of a scene has gone, for the banging of 
the carpenter's hammer has been supplanted by 
the sweet tones of a violin. And the cry of the 
property man has given way to the whine of the 
clarinet or saxophone, for the up-to-date motion 
picture director realizes that music and the 
proper atmosphere are just as necessary to the film 
actor as they are to his stage brother. 

The immense value of music in the making of 
photoplays is best illustrated by the remark of a 
veteran director. 

"Some of them can't act unless they have 
music, some of them can't act with it, and some 
of them can't act either way." 

But Mr. Director was taking a rather cynical 
viewpoint when he said "some of them can't 
act with it," for there are mighty few people in 
this world who are not susceptible to music. 
What he really meant was that there are a few 
temperamental stars who believe that they are 
capable of doing a performance better without 
calling upon an embryo Kreisler to help them 
to properly "emote." 

Wallace Reid, popular Paramount star, is one 
of the many modern motion picture players who 
prefers music while making scenes. Reid, him- 
self an excellent musician, makes the statement 
that good music is a most essential part of a 
studio's equipment. 

"And it is necessary in more ways than one," 
he claims. "In the first place, it is an excellent 
medium for 'jazzing' up the players after a par- 
ticularly trying scene." 

Contrary to general opinion, an actor's life 
is by no means the proverbial bed of roses 
Anyone doubting this statement is at liberty to 

Hetty Compson and Theodore Koslojf . the actor- 
dancer, can't do a thins without music. 

Wallie Reid tays he "emota" best to the soft strains of a violin. 

Here's a violinist helping Director Tom Fotmttn 
boss Thomas Meighan and Lila Lee. 

write to any of the motion picture studios in this 
country and secure a copy of the work chart of 
any of the players. It is not an unusual occur- 
rence to work half way into the night and then, 
have to get up before daylight the next morning 
to get the necessary night and dawn scenes. 
Then again, the movie fans are so exacting in 
their demands for perfection in motion pictures 
that it is often necessary to take and re-take the 
same scene a number of times, or until it is as 
near perfection as it is humanly possible to get 
it so. It is then that a jazzy tune is in order. 

George Melford, the director, is a strong advo- 
cate of lively music as a means of "pepping up" 
his company, and it is a common sight at the 
studio here to see Mr. Melford and a number of 
his players busily singing or playing some sort of 
musical instruments. 

Mr. Melford has an odd character in "Speed" 
1 lanson, the Lasky studio troubadour. "Speed" 
is a genius for writing lyrics and setting them to 
his own compositions, generally paraphrasing 
some of the happenings of the troupe. In the 
Middle Ages he would have been a strolling 
minstrel, or perhaps a Cyrano de Bergerac. 

But the most important use music is put to in 
the studios, is the making of the scenes. It is 
really remarkable how greatly screen acting is 
enhanced by the melodious accompaniment. 
That is, if the music is in tone with the incident 
being filmed. It would hardly do to have the 
musician play a jazz piece while the heroine was 
trying to register intense sorrow. 

Until the advent of music in the studios the 
most common form of taking a scene showing the 
heroine in tears was to get a dropper full of 
glycerine, move the camera for a close-up, 
squeeze a few drops of the liquid so that it would 
run down the heroine's cheeks, and the thing 
was done. 

Not so now. When a sob scene is to be regis- 
tered the studio violinist is called over, the situ- 
ation explained to him, and he goes to work. 
Five minutes of playing some sad, sweet piece, 
and the heroine, if she isn't a veritable iceberg, is 
weeping all over the place. 

Another important feature about music in the 
making of motion pictures is the effective results 
obtained by having certain instruments playing 
to form atmosphere for some particular scenes. 
That is, if a Scotch fling is being filmed, real 
Scotch bag-pipers are hired to play for the occa- 
sion. Or, if a group of actors are supposed to be 
listening to a Chinese orchestra, real Chinese 
musicians are obtained to play. The moral 
effect of this atmosphere on the actors, if nothing 
else, is well worth the expense incurred. 

Page Fourteen 


Marth 25, 1922 

The Kitchen Queen of the JMobies 

By Leah Fink 

She admits that sometimes she has 
to go to the cook-book — -but not often. 

An Interview with Doris May 

WON'T you come in? Miss May is in the kitchen; I will call her," 
said the trim little maid who answered our ring at the Doris May 
Hollywood bungalow. 

As we were ushered into a bright, sunny living-room, a symphony of 
Chinese blue, old rose, and tints of sage-green and gold, an adjoining door 
opened and in came a slim, golden-haired figure, her small person completely 
enveloped in a crisp, white apron, her hands covered with flour and across 
one cheek a yellow smudge that looked suspiciously like the yolk of an egg. 

"Oh! I'm so sorry," laughed Doris May breathlessly, "but I'm just in 
the midst of baking a cake. I thought I would have it 
done and could make myself presentable before you came, 
but I had to go over an account with the vegetable man 
and so I was a little late in getting started. You won't 
mind talking to me in the kitchen, will you?" 

Kitchens and vegetable men! And we thought 
that stars were not even supposed to be on speak- 
ing terms with kitchens, to say nothing of dealers 
in vegetables, and that they always received 
guests in incense-laden rooms while they reclined 
languidly on a gilt chaise lounge in rehearsed 
artistic pose. 

"This," went on Doris, from her perch on a 
high white kitchen stool, pointing to the frothy 
mass she was vigorously stirring in a huge yellow 
mixing bowl, "is Wallie's favorite cake, made 
from an old Southern recipe. He's tickled pink 
when I make it for him and I usually do when 
1 have a day off from the studio and can spend 
it in the kitchen." 

"But where did you learn to cook and bake?" 
we asked, curiously. 

"Oh! I've cooked and baked ever since I was 
ten years old. Mother always said that if she 
ever had a girl she was going to teach her at least 
one thing and that was to be a good housekeeper. 
And so, of course, when I came along she could 
hardly wait until I was old enough before she 
took me into the kitchen and gave me my first 
cooking lesson. I really enjoy it and wish I had 
more time to stay at home. But then, my screen 
work — " she shrugged her shoulders and smiled. 

Success ana fame, achieved at nineteen, too, certainly sit lightly upon 
Doris May's brow. She might be, for all the difference it has made in her 
character personally, just plain Mary Jones, newly married, very much 
in love with her good-looking young husband and thrilled over the prospect 
of taking care of her own little home. 

"But why should success necessarily spoil one?" she returned seriously 
in answer to our remark to the effect that it was refreshing to talk with 
someone whose viewpoint was still unbiased in spite of fame and its 
attendant honors. 

"It's such a privilege to be chosen for any special favors," she continued, 
"that it should make one very grateful and humble. At least it makes me 
feel that way and whenever I find myself inclined to get a bit heady I 
always think of someone less fortunate than myself and thank my lucky 
stars that I was given an opportunity to do a bit better than the average." 

Doris May impresses one as being just a 
grown-up kiddie on tiptoe to meet and unravel 
the tangled skeins of life and to whom each day 
comes in the nature of one glorious adventure 
after another. Her outlook upon everything 
is fresh, unspoiled and wholesome and >t is 
impossible to imagine her ever getting "up stage" 
or acquiring either habits or mannerisms that 
savor of the artificial. 

"Do you like this house?" she chatted on 
gaily, flitting from one subject to another. And 
upon being solemnly assured that we did— 

"Wallie and I are simply crazy about it." 

Then, apologetically, "You see, it's our first 
very own home and we both planned just how 
it was going to be built and how we were going 
to furnish it. I never had so much fun in all my 
life as I did when I went shopping to buy the 
things for our house. I'm afraid I was a bit 
extravagant, too; but Wallie said to get what- 
ever I liked, and so I did. It's just a dream 
house, and I can hardly wait to get home from 
the studio every night to go through it and 
assure myself that it's really our very own." 

It justifies its title of "dream house," although 
anything but pretentious. It faces on one of the 
prettiest little tree-lined streets in Hollywood 
and has seven large sunny rooms, four down and 
three up. It is furnished in excellent taste, the 
colors Chinese blue and rose predominating, and 
is so comfortable that when you pay it a visit 
you find it hard to say good-bye. 

Upstairs a room has beer* set aside as Wallace 
MacDonald's private sanctum sanctorum, and 
it holds all his dearest possessions. 

"I'm not even allowed to touch anything there, 
and as for dusting it — not on my life," laughed 
Miss May. 

Doris picked up a pipe— picked it up very 
gingerly. ( 

I didn't blame her much. It was a wicked 
looking affair. One of those enormous smelly 
kind of pipes that you associate with the captain 
of a whaling ship, or something. 

"See this?" she asked, holding it off at arm's 
length, and making a face at it. "This is friend 
husband's particular pet. I honestly believe he 
loves it next to me. And I'm not supposed ever, etier to touch it. You see, 
Wallace smokes it, and drops it in — oh, well, just any old place he happens 
to be when he's finished — and then he expects to find it in that self-same 
spot when he wants it again. 

"Do you know, I'm almost jealous of that old pipe. You see," — and 
she giggled — "It's so terribly much stronger than I am." 

Doris has her own little sitting room, too, and it is just as dainty and 
girlish as its occupant, for its walls are of soft cream, the hangings of rose- 
colored shirred taffeta silk and the furniture ivory wicker. Its most con- 
spicuous and at the same time most cherished treasure, is a large silver 
framed photograph of Wallace MacDonald which bears mute testimony to 
the fact that Doris May, motion picture star, is not very far removed from 
Doris May, bride and home-maker. 

Baking pies just like 

mother used to make is 

no trick Jor Doris. 

"Oh dear, where' s the 

cinnamon?" Eoen being 

the bride of Wallace 

MacDonald has its 


March 25. 1922 


Page Fifteen 

Eustace Qets Qonfidentiai 

"OlAY,"' says de guy what is in charge of dc 
^S countin' of de votes in de contest, "as long 
b*J as youse is iucky enough to be gettin' 
away wid de whole page, keep on de contest and 
tell 'em how dey are losin' a chance by not 
gettin' after de leaders, by sendin' in more votes." 

"What do youse mean, lucky?" says I, "Dey 
ought to be payin' me for my stuff. Dey woulda, 
too, ceptin' for de rough gab I pulls on de chief's 
wife. Dere ain't anudder guy in de whole book 
whabcan write like 1 do." 

"Praises be for dat blessin'," says he, which has 
all de ear marks of a dirty crack to me. "But 
youse keep on tellin* 'em dat dey won't get no 
place unless dey get after de leaders ." 

Dat's de trouble wid most de guys around dis 
office. Dey don't give me no credit for havin 
brains. Dey tells me sumpin like dat and 
expects me to pass it along. Dat's de worst sort 
of kiddin' in de world, but ds guy what thinks 
dat I have nuttin' more in me hat's garage dan 
he has, figures dat I will fall for dat line of gab 
and tell it to youse. 

Dat youse haven't got a chance for a prize 
unless youse get after de leaders! 

Say, listen. I never gets far enough m school 
so as I loses my natural intelligence, but I does 
get far enough so as I knows enough arithmutic 
to be able to figure it out dat when dere is one 
hundred prizes offered, dere has got to be one 
hundred people get "em. « 

Cast your glims over de list on dis page 
Dere's only thoity people dat's got over thoity 
votes. If de contest ended dis week dat would be 
seventy people what would come for prizes wid 
only thoity votes per each. 

Dat's what would happen if dis cheap guy 
what counts de votes has his way about it. But 
nuttin' doin' on dat sort of stuff. De post office 
department says dat in case of ties for any prize 
each person tied must get de same prize. 

Does youse get what dat means? 

Dis guy what's wanting me to do de kiddin 
about beatin' de leaders tells me dat de thoity- 
foist to fortieth prizes is a $150 Pathe phono- 
graph. Counting in the people what's in de list 
on de page here dere are over four hundred what 
have thoity votes per each which makes 'em tied 
for thoity-foist prize. 

Now den, what I'm hopin' happens is dat 
about four thousand more people send in de 
reader's coupon givin' 'em each thoity votes and 
den no more comes in. Dat'll mean about 5,000 
$150 phonographs dat dis guy will haf to give 
away or else do a stretch in a pen becuz of de 
postal guys. I wouldn't be wishin* dis except 
for dat crack he makes about it bein a blessin' 
dat dere ain't nobody else what writes like me. 

De chances is dat I'll be gettin' de bum's rush 
out of me job as soon as dis here contest guy sees 
dis, but I was thinkin' of quittin' anyway, cause 
I knows how to make money fastern what 
I'm makin' it here. It taint printin' it meself 
neether. It's sumpin a whole lot softer. . 

I'm goin' to make four years" salary widin de 
next six months. I knows a guy what's makin' 
scads of money and he says he will pay me two 
thousand plunks for de sedan what's de main 
prize in de contest. Well, de guy what's winnin' 
it now ain't got so many votes and I can buy what 
I needs at $10 for every 9,000, and den send a 

Our Office Boy is in Wrong Again 

Stars in the $22,000 Race 



G. Reichman. New York City 


J. A. Fisher, Montello, Mass. 


Betty C, Hitchins, Frostburg, Md 


L. Rumpakis, Portland. Ore. . . . 


J. Kirscher. New York City. 


E. Whiteiock, Martinsburg, W. Va. 


B. W. Sims. Pensacola, Fla 


Ruby Pippert, Dixon, Ml 


Florence Schuitz, Chicago, Hi. . . . 


W. Duff, Chicago, ill 


Constance Erbaugh, Dayton, Ohio 



J. P. Oppenheim, New York City 


Rosemary Diegan, Chicago, ill.. 


C. R. Grirfin, Seymour, Conn. - . 


Pauline Sesso, Washington, D. C. 


Cora Montverrli, Orange, N. J 


E. Curarnings, Cincinnati, Ohio. , 


Beatrice Whaien. Sioux City, Iowa 


Isabelle Caywooa 1 , New York City 


E S Hoover, Gretna, Neb. . . 


S. Apostol, New York City 


Geneva Kappes. wVynesburg, Pa 


H Paulsen. Brooklyn, N. Y. . . . 


T. W. Hikierr. Perry. NY. 


J. Bolger. Salt Lake City. Utah 



A. J. Fo3ter. St Louis, Mo 

Gertrude Brad "man Wilmington. Del 


Mrs. M. Waggoner. Dallas, Tex 


Mrs. E. S. Rogers, Marion, Hi. 


H. C. Moore, Defiance. Ohio. . . 


J. W. Magowan. Mr. Sterling. Ky 


Maria Stockwell, Franklin, Ohio 


W. Daiiey, Omaha, Neb 


t. De Berardmis, Btooklyn, N. Y 


Mrs. M. M. Dacey. Holden, W. Va. 


H. C, Gu«son. New York City. 
G. Douglas, Shinniston. W. Va 



A. De Santo, Duluth. Minn. ..... . 


W. Kachnowsky, New Britain. Conn 


R. T. Coit, S. Orange. N. J. . . . 


A. Pulciano, Lakewood, N. J. 


J. Thompson, Philadelphia, Pa. 


H. Colgrove, Herdock. N. Y. . . 


C, M. Zeltrnan, Brooklyn. N. Y 


J. H. Abbott. Atlanta, Ga. 


J. Milan, Omaha. Neb.. . . 


M. Parello, Newark, N. J.. 


Mrs. Peggy Mack, Brooklyn. N. Y 


S. Dofsky. Chicago, 111,. . . 


L. Srhwartz. New York . . . . 


F. Beckham, San Antonio, Tex 


S. Randeil. New York City. 

. . 30 

L. Roescher, Memphis, Tenn. . . 


J. Atkins. Rockford. 111. ... 



V. Pasaalacque, Brooklyn, N. Y 


. P. D. J. Beskman. New York City . 


A. Buba, Braddock. Pa 


V. Cordara, Hoboken, N.J 


C. L. Christiansen. Ft. Wadsworth. NY 

Anne Comite, Newark, N.J....; ... 


Miidred Fagen, Shelbyville. III. ........ 


W. K. Hoblitzell. Somerset. Pa. 


Miss G. Jacobson, Washington, D. C. . 


L. M. Kinney, Lander, Wyo 


J. W. Martin, Fairmont, W. Va 

P. W. Matuszewakif New Castle, Pa. . 






Mrs. C. S. Scott, Leavenworth, Kan. . . 


Eleanor A. Small, Washington, D. C, . . 



A. Yort. Chicago, III 




T. C. Stewart, Brooklyn, N. Y 



Sunny Colton, Newark, N.J 


Miss Susie H. Horn, Rochester, N. Y. . 


F. G. Lanctot, U. S. Atlantic Fleet 





Mrs. Pauline Jones, Kansas City, Mo. . . 




Mrs. W. J. Oapring. Poplar Bluff. Mo. . 


J. R. Williams, Raleigh, N. C. ........ . 

Marguerite Lingren, Minneapolis, Minn. 



L. W. Praric, Glens Falls, N. Y.. . . , . 



Mrs. C. E. McCarty, Springdale, Pa. . . . 


Perrie Marquete, Jacksonville, Fla 


E. H. Lund, Salt Lake City, Utah 


P. Q. Ledbettcr, Moline. Ill 




two years' subscription to PANTOMIME to 
me friends. 

De only thing what keeps me from quittin* and 
startin' dis scheme is dat it may take a little 
financin' — meanin' dat I may need some coin 
what 1 ain't got in order to treat enough of me 
friends to de best movie magazine in de field to 
cop de first prize. But for a thousand plunks I 
can get 900.000 votes and if dat ain't enough to 
win de sedan, it will mean dat John D. Rocke- 
feller has swapped de Standard Oil for PANTO- 
MIME subscriptions, and dere ain't no chance of 
dat. do you think? 

So's even if we got to spend de thousand plunks 
dere still is a thousand clear, and anyone what 
wants to give me de coin can have whatever dey 
and me thinks is right out of de profits. Address 
me care of PANTOMIME, or maybe you better 
make it just general delivery, New York City, 
which is safer, cuz de stenographer what opens 
de mail here is so jealous shed probably never 
let me know about it. 

De general delivery is de safer bet, anyway. 
cause, as I says before, I ain't bettin" dat I'm 
goin be spendin' my spare time in dis job much 
longer. Youse remember de way de chief gets 
sore 'cause I falls for de looks of de better half 
of his pay check and tells her a lot about how a 
chicken can get along wid him? 

Well, dat makes me cagey of asking anything 
of any dame what comes into de office asking 
for de editor-in-chief, just de same, I makes de 
good-looking ones fill out de cards saying what 
dey want of him, cuz I knows every one of dern 
ain't, his wife. No matter what else dey can say 
about de chief, he's no Mormon — or any udder 
religion what I ever herd of. 

Den last Thoisday, in comes a sour-looking 
dame. She has de same big nose as de editor 
and it's easy enough to see de family looks, 
although it don't run much past de sour expres- 
sion, de big beezer and blue eyes. 

"Dis is me chance to square things." I thinks 
to meself. "dis is his aunt, or sumpin, and I'll 
rush her right in." 

So widout even makin' her say what she wants 
1 takes her in to de chief. 

Den, in about two minutes we gets a good idea 
of what happens in Russia every time dat guy 
Trotzky gets a toothache. You can hear her 
speech all over de office, and she was some mean 
tongue-swinger, too. De big Boss goes in, and 
den de circulation manager and den all de udder 
guys in de office what has a title hike for de 
chief's hang-out. And dis dame has enough 
ballin' out to go all de way around de crowd and 
leave some over for the guys out in the hall and 
de elevator men. 

What's de row about? She's sumpin 1 should 
have put a bomb under instead of treatin' her 
nice. But how was I to know dat she is a field 
delegate of De Society for de stopping of any- 
thing pleasant. 

And dat she'd come in to kick on the picture of 
Mae Murray we prints on de cover last week. 

I sneaks while de row is still goin' good, and as 
none of de bosses ever come in now until dey 
know who's in de office none of dem has seen 
me yet. 

But I can't dodge them all de time, so dat's 
why I think me future business address may be 
sumpin' different from what it is now. 

Page Sixteen 


Gosh! This lady must 
have done something awful 
to get William Farnum 
as angry at her as all this. 
We won't venture a guess 
as to what it is for this is a 
scene from "A Stage Ro- 
mance," and who knows, 
things are so different on 
the stage that we might he 
entirely wrong. 

Florence Vidor has be* 
come a star in her own 
right, after making a series 
of hits as a leading woman 
and as a featured player. 
This is a scene from her 
first starring vehicle, "Wo- 
man Wake Up," shortly to 
be released by Associated 

looks so 
she is a 
this moo 
title of 
would i, 
going U 
better be 

March 25, 1922 

March 25, 1922 


Page Seventeen 

Moments in ^iffiures Tou Movent Seen 


r -M 


We can just see that Mabel Ballin would like to k'ss Crauford 
Kent in this scene but there is some reason or other why she thinks 
she ought not to want to. It's from "Luxury Taxes." 



: ;';■; 

,•*> H? 

Huh, if that cigar was 
only lighted, Johnnie 
Walker w&uld be in danger 
of getting his chin burned. 
The little lady is Edna 
Murphy, who is co-starred 
with Johnnie in the news- 
paper story, "Extra, Ex- 
tra," from which this scene 
is taken. 

This makes it look as if 
Tom Mix had just lost a 
Wonderful new concoction 
through feminine inter- 
ference or carelessness. 
That it might be a violation 
of the Eighteenth Amend- 
ment is indicated by the 
title of the production, 
"Chasing the Moon." 

Xorma Talrhadge never 
looks so appealing as when 
she is sad. Yet we know 
this mood can 't last, for the 
title of the picture is 
"Smilin Through," which 
would indicate that she is 
foing to feel a whole lot 
better before the final fade- 

We'd be ^rW of suspi' 
cious, too, if some one 
mussed us all up and then 
offered to shake hands. 
But then.Johh Gilbert looks 
so sincere, we'd probably 
accept. It's a scene from 
Mr. Gilbert's latest starring 
vehicle, "In Calvert's Val- 

We can't see, but we bet 
the doctor is pronouncing 
the man on the floor dead. 
We don't know who did it, 
but we bet that Earle Wil- 
liams finds out who it was, 
for it is a scene from "The 
Man from Downing Street" 
in which Earle is a detec- 


Page Eighteen 


March 2>. IV27 

The Sign of the Trident 

SUDDENLY she bumped against something 
in the middle of the room. Rubbing the 
smoke from her eyes, the gir! endeavored to 
examine her discovery. It was a maat-like pole, 
with boards nailed upon it for steps, leading up- 
ward through the top of the hut. Ruth grasped 
the pole and started climbing 

High above the hut, on the top of the pole, was 
the crow's nest lookout. Ruth was able to reach 
the top 

Finally the wind changed, sending the smoke 
out to sea. Ruth looked below and saw the 
flames hungrily licking the straw-thatched hut. 
Already the base of the pole was beginning to 
crackle. ' She shouted wildly, hoping for help 
of some kind. Another gust of wind caused the 
mast to sway. Suddenly it broke at the base 
and crashed toward the angry waters of the sea 
with Ruth clinging to the lookout. 


On board the Dragon, for Phil Stanton had 
been correct in his surmise that the yacht was 
returning, the lookout ran below and informed 
the young man of a fire on shore. Phil saw the 
flames licking around the hut and the pole sway- 
ing in the wind. Running to the bridge, he in- 
formed the skipper. They reached the spot just 
as the pole crashed into the water. Two life- 
boats were lowered, and the unconscious girl 
carried aboard. 

One month later at the Loomis and Stanton 
ranch, Phil and Ruth were discussing the many 
pvents happening since their departure to Siburo. 

"I have lost the sacred Wampum Belt." she 
told him. "and without its secret I dare not decide 
the ownership of the Golden Pool.' 

"What 1 wanted to tell you," Phil interrupted, 
"was that it is necessary for me to go to San 
Mario at once to transact some important busi 
ness " 

As he rode off. there was a flash of white out- 
side the. window and a stone crashed in on the 
floor. She picked up the stone, and read: "You 
will find Stone Ear at the old Indian Wigwam." 

And then Ruth did a very foolish thing. She 
hunted up Loomis, showed him the message and 
asked his advice. Loomis advised her to wait 
until Phil returned before doing anything. He 
sought Julia Wells and told her of the message. 

"You must go immediately to the Wigwam," 
he said. "I'll send some men along with you." 

Ruth became worried. She was already sorrv 

Suddenly Ruth, at the wheel, felt someone grasp her 
from behind . . and she lost control of the car. 

CHAPTER IX (Continued) 

that she had confided in Loomis. Calling Moon- 
light, she told her to ride to San Mario and tell 
Phil to hurry back. 

Julia and her party had reached the abandoned 
1 ndian wigwam, and leaving the men outside, 
the woman entered. She saw Stone Ear squat- 
ting beside the fire, with a small Indian boy. evi- 
dently her guide and interpreter. 

Julia showed the Wampum Belt to the squaw. 
The latter became highly excited and told the 
Indian youth in sign language that she could not 
tell the secret of the Wampum belt without the 
amulet of Lame Elk as a token of authority. 
Julia remembered that Ruth was the possessor of 
the amulet. While she was wondering what the 
next step should be. one of her men rushed in 
and told her that Ruth was approaching The 
girl had become impatient waiting for Phil. 

"You and our men hide inside and watch Miss 
Randolph.' Julia told him. "When I give you 
the signal, rush out and take the amulet. But 
do not let her suspect I have anything to do 
with your action." 

They all hid in the dimly lit wigwam as Ruth 
entered The girl approached the fire and greeted 
Stone Ear, who actually seemed glad to see her. 
Ruth he.ld out the amulet to the deaf and dumb 
squaw. Stone Ear became tremendously excited 
on receiving Lame Elk's token and started to 
make signs to the Indian boy. but before the 
youth could tell the girl the meaning, Julia's 
men rushed out of their hiding place and :sur 
rounded Ruth. 

The gir! quickly snatched the amulet from 
Stone Ear and sprang back from the cowpunch- 
ers. The old Indian, realizing Ruth's position, 
threw a blanket over the fire, throwing the wig- 
wam in darkness. In the confusion which fol- 
lowed, Ruth made her escape and ran towards a 
small canyon back of a thick growth of trees. 

As she arrived at the canyon, with the men 
close behind her. there was a sound of rapid 
hoof-beats, and the White Rider galloped up. 
swung her to his saddle and dashed off, leaving 
Julia's men stupefied. They rushed back to 
where their horses were' tethered and started in 

The White Rider finally came to the box can- 
yon where the gate in the enormous tree led to 
his cave dwelling. As he disappeared inside, the 
cowboys drew up. just in time to see the door 
close. Arriving in the large chamber, the horse- 
man told Ruth to remain there while he disposed 
of the pursuers, as he could hear them trying to 
force their way inside. 

In a small rock chamber, the White Ridei 
strode to the wall, where an electrical apparatus 
and lever stood on a table. 

Meanwhile Ruth became frightened at remain- 
ing alone in the chamber. Brushing against a 
bookcase, she heard a spring click. She tried to 
move the bookcase, and found that it slid back 
An entrance to a secret passageway disclosed 
itself. Ruth entered and slid the bookcase back 
mto place. 

The White Rider, from his point of vantage, 
watched the approaching men intently. Slowly 
he let his hand rest on the lever — then, with cairn 
deliberation pressed it down. A terrific explosion 
followed which shook the mountainside. The 
whole side of the canyon at the tree was blown 

The mysterious horseman left his place and 
rushed back to the chamber. An exclamation 
l-'ft his lips when he saw that Ruth was not there 
lie rushed to the bookcase and swung it back 
The passageway was completely blocked. 

The White Rider tried to clear the debris away 
from the blocked entrance in order to reach the 
girl, but it seemed hopeless. Trying another 
secret entrance to the passageway, he was again 
greeted by a mass of stones and sand. 

Ruth was making no progress. Tons of sand 
began to pour down upon her so fast that she 
could not get out of it. Already it had reached 
fler waistline and was still pouring in. All her 
efforts to pull out were in vain. 


As the sand continued to pour in about Ruth, 
the girl began to cry for help. The White Rider 
had not given up hope of rescuing her He seized 
a pick and shovel. It was done none too soon. 
The sand was beginning to pour in around her 
neck just as the mysterious horseman reached her. 

Leaving the chamber, they walked out the 
passageway which led to the spot where their 
horses were resting. Then they started for the 
ranch. As they rode across the plain, the girl 
saw Phil coming toward them. She gleefully 
announced it to the White Rider. He waited 
until the young man had sighted his sweetheart, 
and then bade Ruth goodbye and galloped off 

Back at the ranch house. Jim Loomis and Julia 
were in earnest consultation. Loomis insisted 
on obtaining possession of the amulet. 

"If we fail to get the amulet," he said, "we 
can still obtain a large share of the wealth by 
keeping Ruth from going back to the Golden 
Canyon in. the next thirty days." 

"The only person who can read the cipher on 
the Wampum Belt is Stone Ear," declared Julia, 
"and she won't read the belt unless she is given 
the amulet." 

At that moment Ruth and Phil arrived at the 
ranch. They were greeted warmly by the deceit- 
ful Julia and Loomis, who listened in feigned'sur- 
prise as they told of their experiences. As they 
sat talking and chatting. Crouching Mole sud- 
denly made his appearance. Going up to Ruth. 
he said: 

"Only one moon remains wherein you must 
decide the 'ownership of the Golden Pool. Our 
people are becoming restless and demand that 
you return at once." 

"But I have lost my only protection, the Wam- 
pum Belt." replied the girl, "and I fear your 

"I can promise you, Princess White Eagle " 
he answered, "that you will be perfectly safe " 
Much against the will of Phil, she promised to 
come the next day. 

As Loomis and Julia were about to follow, there 
was a knock at the door. It was Henley, bring- 
ing Stone Ear. "Now show her the Wampum 
Belt," he told Loomis. "I can read her mine 
signs." Stone Ear was shown the belt after 
which she made signs to Henley. 

"She says she refuses to read the cipher wi(hou.'. 

Stone £ar refused to read the message «n tl>c 

Wampum without the amulet, and Julia decided 

to get it that night 

March 5, 1922 


Page Nineteen 

a certain amulet which Miss Randolph pas 
nesses," explained the cowpuncher. 

Loomis was dismayed. "We must get hold 
of that amulet some way." he said. 

"1 will get it tonight," Julia assured him. 

At midnight Ruth suddenly awoke and sat 
up in bed. She felt about her neck. The amulet 
was gone. Supping into a dressing gown, she 
opened the door of her room and stepped out 
into the hall just in time to collide with. Stone 
Ear, who had the amulet in her hand. The old 
squaw had just escaped from down stairs and 
had snatched the token from Julia as the latter 
came from Ruth's room. 

The excitement in the hallway awoke the 
entire household. All came running into Ruth's 
room, Phil anxiously, and Loomis and Juli« 
feigning innocence. 

"I will take charge of the woman," declared 
the crafty Loomis, "and if the belt is found latrr 
you can send for her." 

In the morning, as Ruth and Phil were getting 
into the stage coach, Loomis took the driver 
aside and said, "If any accident should happen to 
delay this trip, it won't make me feel badly at 
all." A bill of generous proportions changed 
hands and the driver winked at Loomis. 

In a few moments the coach was on its way. 
After a drive of about a mile they approached ;. 
small bridge which crossed a creek near the edgr 
of the woods. Without slackening speed they 
rounded the corner and started across the bridge 
But the hind wheels of the coach were hurled 
around and the stage coach slowly tumbled from 
the bridge to the creek. No one was injured, but 
the coach was placed in such a position that it 
was impossible for them to get it back on the 

"Well, what'll we do next?" Phil asked, looking 
at the girl. 

Suddenly Phil saw an automobile coming down 
the road. In another moment he had hired the 
driver of the car to take them on their way. 

But they had not reckoned on Henley and his 
men. That worthy hireling of Loomis had fol- 
lowed the stage coach, had seen the accident and 
had growled to himself when he saw the two 
young people continue their way in the automo- 

"We've got to head 'em off some way." he 
told his men. "Let's all scatter and take short 

As the machine was speeding along the road. 
Ph il chanced to look back. He saw two horsemen 
approaching, urging their horses on to full speed. 

Phil took one glance over his shoulder as they 
rounded the corner. Then, out of a clear sky. a 
man crashed into the back seat upon Stanton. 
He had taken a short cut and stationed himself 
upon the cliff, knowing the car would have to 
pass that way. 

Hopelessly, Ruth endeavored to get up more 
speed. Evidently the supply of gas was running 
low. Phil was still struggling in the rear seat 
with his attacker, and the cowpunchers were 
already bearing down upon the car. Finally one 
of them leaped to the automobile directly upon 
Phil. In the general melee the new arrival and 
Phil toppled from the car into the road. 

Suddenly Ruth, at the wheel, felt someone 
grasp her from behind. The man from the cliff 
was still in the car. As he attempted to stop her 
cries, she lost control of the car — and before the 
girl could shove on the brakes the clumsy ma- 
chine and its two occupants plunged over the 
outside ledge and crashed down the steep slope 


When Phil tumbled from the automobile into 
the road, he was, as he described it later, 
"knocked silly" for a moment. When he regained 
his senses he found himself in the strong grasp of 
one of his enemies, galloping over the plains on 
the back of a horse. His captor, knowing that 
he was far enough away from Ruth Randolph to 
prevent him from giving the girl aid, shoved the 
young man from the horse. 

Phil struggled to his feet. There was little 
use in trudging back to where he had left Ruth. 

He figured that by this time she had probably 
escaped her pursuers and was driving the ear 
toward San Mario. He started in that direction. 

About an hour later, as he was entering the 
outskirts of the town, the White Rider galloped 
up in a cloud of dust. 

"Miss Randolph is waiting for you at the hotel 
in San Mario," the mysterious horseman told 
him. "She had a narrow escape from death at 
the hands of your enemies, I appeared on the 
scene just in time." 

"She is safe, then?" inquired Phil, anxiously, 

Then Rath did a very foolish thing. She took the 
message and showed it to Loomis. 

"She is never safe while she is in this country," 
came the answer. "Another thing," the White 
Rider added, "tell Miss Randolph that Julia 
Wells has the Wampum Belt and intends to put 
it in the bank vault at San Mario. That's all." 

Meanwhile, at the San Mario Hotel, a big 
business deal was being transacted. Sheldon, 
representing the banking interests in the East, 
had succeeded in securing half of Jim- Loomis' 
interest in the Golden Pool After accomplishing 
this, the enterprising young man decided to hunt 
up Miss Randolph and persuade her to give the 
Golden Pool to the Blue Hawks. 

But at that moment she was being addressed 
by both Gray Wolf and Standing Bear, who were 
pleading their cause for the ownership of the 

"If you will decide in favor of the Blue 
Hawks," Gray Wolf was saying, "we will convert 
the pool into cash and my tribe will become rich 
and happy." 

"Gray Wolf is wrong." interrupted Standing 
Bear. "So much gold will bring sloth and cor- 
ruption to the tribe and disaster to the country." 

"But if the white people owned the Golden 
Pool." retorted the chief of the Blue Hawks, 
'they would turn it into money just as we intend 
to do." 

The Sign of the Trident 

Adapted by Herbert Crooker, 
from the Pa the photoplay 
serial, "White Eagle," starring 
Ruth Roland. Original story 
by Val Cleveland. 
Copyright by Pathe Exchange. Inc. 

"Gray Wolf intends to sell the Golden Pool 
to a group of eastern bankers." explained Stand- 
ing Bear, turning to the girl. "Only a few men 
will benefit." 

Then, turning to Standing Bear, she asked 
"What would you do with the Golden Pool should 
I award it to your tribe?" 

"If you decide in favor of the Buffaloes." 
answered Standing Bear. "I will give the gold to 
the government." 

Ruth considered for a moment, then: "I can 
not decide this question until I find the Wampum 

Gray Wolf left the room angrily. Outside he 
encountered Loomis and told him what had 

"Then we must keep the girl from the Golden 
Canyon,' Loomis replied. "If she fails to appear 
there in time to render judgment, the Golden 
Pool will be divided between the two tribes and 
we will receive one-half of the wealth, at any 
rate." As they were talking, Sheldon approached 
them. He. too, had interviewed the girl and 
failed. But the crafty Loomis then unfolded a 
plan which his partners heartily approved of. 

Loomis and Julia Wells departed for the bank 
near by to deposit the Wampum Belt. The bank 
was owned by Dan Murdock, who was also the 
proprietor of a gambling house, although few 
people in San Mario knew it. 

' I * want to make you a proposition which 
should be worth your while," Loomis told Mur- 
dock. "I want to keep Ruth Randolph here for 
twenty days. No harm is to come to her. Just 
see that she does not escape. It means big 
money in your pocket." He agreed. 

In the meantime, Phil had arrived in town, 
and, seeing Julia and Loomis leave the bank, it 
did not take him long to understand the situa- 
tion. A small cavalcade of cowpunchers came 
riding down the main thoroughfare to make their 
monthly purchases at the general store. Phil 
saw that they were from his ranch, and he quickly 
drew them to a side street and unfolded a plan. 

Five minutes later Stanton entered the bank, 
nodded to Murdock, and stepped over to the 
desk, pretending to write out a check. Suddenly 
revolver shots mingled with shouting and the 
stampede of horses came to their ears. The 
bank manager rushed to the door and Phil slipped 
unnoticed into the open vault. Soon the excite- 
ment in the street subsided, and Murdock 
stepped back into the bank and closed the door of 
the vault. 

Phil, on the inside, felt anxious as he saw the 
door closed, but he was more excited over the 
hope of finding the Wampum Belt than he was 
over his escape from the vault. Finally his eyes 
fell upon the strong box. He opened it. There 
was the coveted belt! He thrust it inside his 
shirt and began to wonder how to get out of 
the vault. Already the close atmosphere was 
getting to him. 

Meanwhile. Murdock had sent for Ruth Ran- 
dolph and was interviewing the girl in a private 
room, connected with the bank. After locking 
the door, he turned to the girl and said bluntly: 
"A certain party has paid me big money to 
keep you here for twenty days. I suppose you 
know what its all about?" 

"What do you mean?" asked the girl, alarmed 
and angered. 

"Just what 1 say." came the calm answer. 
"But one thing I'll tell you that might ease your 
state of mind. The Wampum Belt is in my vault, 
and nobody can get it except me because nobody 
else knows the combination. I'm just telling 
you this because I think you're a good kid, see?" 

"But I can't stay here," pleaded the girl. 
"You must let me go!" 

"Well. I sure hate to see you in this mess, but 
I've got to keep you here. I've accepted their 
dough and a bargain's a bargain." 

(To be continued) 

Page Twenty 


March 25, 1922 

Tour Qhance to Qet into the 

By Charles Singer 

FlUR positions in big motion picture produc- 
tions at $100.00 per week to beginners! 
That's what PANTOMIME has to offer 
its feminine readers. 

It's the opportunity that takes hundreds of 
young women every year to Los Angeles. 

But it is better than they can hope for. because 
it is seldom that the bigger producers will take a 
beginner in any capacity. 

The people who have offered this opportunity 
to PANTOMIME readers are Warner Brothers, 
who have but lately released "Why Girls Leave 
Home," "School Days," with Wesley Barry and 
"Your Best Friend," with Vera Gordon. The 
.success of these three productions has deter- 
i mined Warner Brothers upon greater and bigger 
pictures, and four have already been planned. 

It is as a member of the cast of each one of 
these four that the winners in PANTOMIME'S 
contest will make their debut in the movies. 

The training that they will receive in their 
initial appearance is assured by the reputation 

of the men they will work for. Harry Rapf. 
producer of the three pictures named above, will 
produce the four in which the PANTOMIME 
winners will be given parts, and William Nigh, 
director of the three successes, will perform the 
same office on the coming four.. 
It is not a beauty contest! 

Mr. Rapf and Mr. Nigh know many agencies 
where they can procure all the beauties they 
require at a smaller salary than they will pay to 
the winners of the PANTOMIME contest. 

Each one of the four productions that will be 
made in the future has roles which offer great 
chances to what are known as "types" in the 
motion picture studio. A "type" is merely a 
person who has something distinctive in their 
appearance. Beauty is a type, appeal is a type, 
bobbed hair is a type, long hair is another type, 
large eyes is a type, a big mouth is a type, and 
so on. 

Mary Pickford is a "pony" type, on account of 
her size, blonde "type" because of her hair and 
coloring, "beauty" type, because of her facial 
appearance and curly hair, and "juvenile" type, 
because of her ability to look the age of a child. 
Ben Turpin is a straight "comedy" type — his 
cross eyes prohibiting him from being anything 
else. Almost anyone, unless she is deformed 
in some way, falls into two or more "type" 
classes, so that every entry in the contest will 
have at least that many chances of being one of 
the winners. 

As the PANTOMIME contest is strictly one 
for "types," mere beauty will not win it. If 
some entry is excessively beautiful it may be 
that she will be chosen because she stands so high 
as such a type. 

Eddie Bonns, advertising and publicity man- 
ager for Warner Brothers, who selected PANTO- 
MIME from the forty motion picture magazines 
published, to manage the contest, after Mr. 
Rapf and Mr. Nigh had decided upon it, said in 
regard to the judging: 

"Both Mr. Rapf and Mr. Nigh make but one 
restriction, and that is that the winning con- 
testants must be absolutely without experience 
in motion pictures. The roles for which the 
winners of the contest will be cast are ones 
which both the producer and the director feel 
made a feature of the production if the 
people are found to fill them. 

Harry Rap}, producer of the four features in 

which winners will have a part, and who will act 

as one of the judges. 

"Previous experience would be a handicap 
because the conception Mr. Rapf and Mr. Nigh 
have for these four characters is different from 
anything that has ever been done on the screen. 
•Carrying out of these conceptions will be up to 
the natural talent of the person selected." 

The four productions in which the winners of 
the PANTOMIME "Big Four" winners will 
appear are: 

"From Rags to Riches," featuring Wesley 

"Little Heroes of the Street," featuring Wesley 

"Brass," from the novel written by Charles C. 

"Main Street." from the novel written by Sin- 
clair Lewis. 

That each one of the four will be outstanding 
motion picture successes of the year is as certain 
as anything that has not been proven can be. 
Wesley Barry made the biggest success of his 
career in "School Days." The next Warner 
Brothers attraction produced by Mr. Rapf and 
directed by Mr. Nigh would be a big production 
whether the story amounted to anything or not 
merely because of the success of "School Days." 
But in "From Rags to Riches" Warner Brothers 
have a melodrama that has played year after 

Jacqueline Logan is another star who won her Mary Pickford started at a salary of five dollars a 
start as a member of a chorus of comedy company day, paid only on the days s/w acfciaWj/ worked. 

Hope Hampton won a contest ana 
was starred in her first picture. 

March 25, 1922 


Page Twenty-one 

JMovtes at $100 a WeeJ^ 

Publisher of Pantomime 

Will Nigh, who will direct the Jour productions in 

which contest winners will appear, and who is 

also a judge. 

year on the speaking stage, and which contains 
all the ingredients which made the novels of 
Horatio Alger and Oliver Optic the best sellers 
that were ever written. "Little Heroes of the 
Street" is another melodrama which might have 
been written especially for "Freckles" Barry. 

The other two are so well known to the present 
generation in novel form that it is hardly neces- 
sary to comment upon the strength of both the 
stories. The casts for neither of them have been 
fully selected, but the two who are fortunate 
enough to be chosen for parts in them can rest 
assured that the players with whom they will be 
cast will be well known in the screen world. 

It will be no long-drawn-out contest, for the 
first winner will be selected from among those 
entries received up to midnight on May 1st. 
That means that no one whose application is 
not received in the office of PANTOMIME later 
than five weeks from next Monday will have 
the chance of being chosen for the cast of "From 
Rags to Riches." Production on this picture 
will start May 15, and the intervening time 
will be necessary for the judges to make their 
decision and for the successful entry to reach 
the studio where the picture will be made. 

There is a second advantage in getting entries 
in early for those who are not successful in being 
chosen for the first of the four productions will 

have a second chance when the member of the 
cast for "Little Heroes of the Street" is to be 
selected. All entries received from the start of 
the contest to June 15 will be considered for 
the cast of this production, real work on which 
will start July 1st. 

The same procedure will be followed in regard 
to the other two productions, the entries for 
the particular production closing fifteen days 
before the actual filming starts. "Brass" will 
start at the studio on September 1st. which 
means that all entries received up to August 1 5 th 
will have a chance of getting a place in the cast 
of this picture. The contest as far as entries are 
concerned, will close on October 1st, for the pro- 
duction of "Main Street," the fourth and last for 
which PANTOMIME has the opportunity of 
selecting one member of the cast, will be started. 

The chance which is offered to the four readers 
of PANTOMIME is a greater one than the start 
made by several of the present-day stars. Man;' 
of those who are making small fortunes in the 
way of salary jumped into prominence over 
n;ght, through opportunities they made for 
themselves far les3 than those offered the winners 
of the PANTOMIME contest. 

Katherine MacDonald, who now heads one 
of the production units of Preferred Pictures. 
Inc.. is a striking example of the chance that is 
offered in a small part in a big picture. Not quite 
four years ago she was chosen as a "beauty" 
type in a big production. Her appearance and 
bearing on the screen attracted sufficient atten- 
tion so that a company was organized for the 
express purpose of starring. her. Her first salary 
as a star was not announced, but just a year ago 
now she signed another contract for a series of 
twelve pictures for which she is to receive $600,- 
000. The twelve pictures will take about two 
years to make, so that the girl who was selected 
as a "type" about four years ago is now earning 
nearly $1,000 per day. 

Hope Hampton is another whose ascension to 
stardom was the most rapid which the annals of 
the screen affords. She won a beauty contest 
conducted by a Texas newspaper while she was 
a student at a school in New Orleans. She was 
taken to a studio and there showed such talent 
that she was starred in the first picture in which 
she ever appeared. She is now the owner of her 
own company making about four pictures a year 
and enjoying an income that cannot be less than 
at least $200,030 per year. 

Madge Bellamy is another example of how 

quick a jump to fame and a big income is possible 
in pictures. A little over a year ago she was a 
struggling young player on the speaking stage. 
Then she got a part with William Gillette in one 
of his biggest successes, "Dear Brutus." Thomas 
H. I nee, the big producer, saw the show and 
signed Miss Bellamy to a contract which gives 
her an income in excess of that of the president 
of the United States, and in less than a year has 
given her opportunity of playing leading roles 
in many productions. 

Marion Davies had such a minor part in pic- 
tures that she was practically unknown until 
William Randolph Hearst saw and appreciated 
her talent and he made her the star of the leading 
production unit of Cosmopolitan Productions. 
The terms of her contract have never been made 
public but it is sufficient to let her keep a luxuri- 
ous home and pay an income tax that would sup- 
port ten or twenty average families. 

A position as a bathing girl in Mack Sennett's 
comedy company is far below the positions that 
Warner Brothers is offering the winners of the 
"Big Four" contest. Yet many of the best- 

(Continucd on page 30) 

-The talent of Marion Davies was 
recognized quickly' 

type" part in a big production jumped 
Katherine McGuire to leading roles. 

Marie Preoost was a Sennett bathing girl unlit heir 
talent was seen and now she is a star. 

Page Twenty-two 


March 25, 1922 

SjMyrth Gebhart 

ALADY admirer 
called upon To- 
ny Moreno at 
the studio. "Oh, Mr. 
Moreno, you were won- 
derful in 'The Secret 
of the Hills'. But in 
one scene you were 
climbing down a hill 
dressed in a tweed suit 
and the next flash 
showed you at the 
bottom of the hill at- 
tired in a dark hiking 
suit. Where did you 

"My dear madam," 
answered Tony, "that 
is the secret of the 

Tony Moreno %ot real unity 
with a lady admirer, 

The wickedest thing I have seen this week: 
Charlie Chaplin crumbling Post-Toasties at the 
supper table in a cafe and asking everybody the 
name of an unknown lovely damsel in a corner. 

Pauline Frederick made a speech at the annual 
banquet of the Advertising Club of Los Angeles. 
No affair of distinction is complete without 
"Polly" and her scintillant wit. But 1 like her 
much better in her western togs, staging a rodeo 
for the benefit of the crippled children of a local 
orphanage -which is her chief hobby. She is 
going to indulge her hobby soon again with 
another rodeo Dignified paunchy gentlemen — 
drab, malformed children with their souls in 
their eyes — "Polly" is a favorite with them all. 

Bertram Grassby is working in a new Hampton 
picture with a monkey. He is supposed to shove 
his cocoanut-throwing nibs away roughly and 
after each scene has to caress the dirty little 
dickens or he (she or it) gets offended and refuses 
to act again Bertram, though, is a trained 
caresser, so I trust Mr. Hampton will have no 
further trouble with his monkeys. 

You can get most anything out of that Uni- 
versal lot. A few weeks ago somebody discov- 
ered a river, but the sun came back and the river 
went away. It happened so easily that they 
thought, "Why not dig and see what else we can 
get?" Present excavations are bringing to light 
a lake, which they hope, by irrigation and inun- 
dation, to make permanent. They are planting 
a ring-around-the-rosy of pines to make the lake 
feel at home 

Molly Malone says she keeps fit by a daily 
round of boxing One by one are my ideals 

Mary and Doug are moving into a beautiful 
new studio — they bought it last week for $ 1 50,000 
from Jesse Hampton It is only four blocks from 
my house, thank good- 
ness. Now I won't have 
to take "Henry" out 
on bad days. 

Edith Roberts is giving a sen** 
of "Vienna Schnitzel Parties . 

Wanda Hawley is 
noted for her "musical 
teas" and Bill Hart 
used to give campfire 
parties before he got 
married. But Edith 
Roberts wins the crys- 
tal bathing-suit with 
her "Vienna schnitzel 
parties." I had some 
of the breaded veal 
tinted delicately in a 
"deep fat." 

The war must be 
over. Why doesn't 
somebody tell Wash- 

Word comes now that Hope Hampton will 
be out our way soon to make pictures. Thought 
Hopie wouldn't live in the barren West? Elsie 
Ferguson and Alice Brady — two other dyed-in- 
the-wool Easterners who think Chicago is on 
the Pacific coast, though, to be sure, Miss Fer- 
guson did tarry a bit at the Paramount West 
Coast studio last year — are due here soon. too. 
as are the Selznick forces. We live and learn 

Though Lucille Ricksen is but twelve, she has 
all the earmarks of a famous actress. Her home 
was robbed the other night and the bold bad 
man swiped her gold locket and ring. I'm glad 
the Goldwyn publicist didn t try to put over a 
diamond necklace on us. 

Oh, Hollywood is a swift place, no doubt of it. 
Here comes Jean Jarvis to court, saying she 
only loved her husband two days after they were 
married. Jean, a motion picture actress, was 
sixteen and husband Edward was nineteen 
They're several years older — now. 

Majel Coleman (whose modest "b" has been 
press-agented into a "j") entertained for her 
sister-actresses who entered the films via a beauty 
contest. The guests attended a local theatre 
where a Hope Hampton picture was showing — 
Hopie also trod the contest route to fame — and 
included Gertrude Olmstead, Mary Philbin and 
Violet Sheldon. 

Marie Prevost does something astonishing 
every week. This week she'3 gone to bed with 
forty-eight others. But they're kiddies supposed 
to be in an orphanage and boast various colors 
and conditions of cleanliness. 

When Tommy Mejghan was on location 
recently, he made the other chaps stop smoking 
because he claimed it injured the flavor of his 
tea. At least, that's what a member of his com- 
pany is telling on him. I never thought it of 

George Ade and Will Payne have winter 
homes in Florida. "Do you live near Mr. Ade?" 
I asked Mr. Payne — I have a girlish passion for 

"Nope." replied Mr. Payne. "I'm afraid to 
live too close to him — I might catch golf from 

Charles Christie has bought himself a new 
house for $30,000. 1 1 has ten rooms and several 
weepy pepper trees. Look for some hot stuff 
in his new comedies. 

Saw Harold Lloyd out with his best girl last 
night. Sure, she was good-looking. Nope, 
'twasn't Mildred. It was his mother. She's 
his pal and he takes her around a lot. "Mother's 
just a big kid." he says. 

The wife of F, Richard Jones, Mabel Nor- 
mand's director, wants a divorce because Dick 
wouldn't let her use his name in the telephone 
book but gave that honor to a former wife. She 
says it caused her great humiliation. It wouldn't 
me — think what an easy way to avoid bill col- 
lectors! Divorces are demanded out here on 
very serious charges — a while back a little lady 
asked the nice judge please to give her one be- 
ause her husband wouldn't wash behind his ears! 

Marjorie Daw says 
she isn't engaged to 
Johnny Harron, broth- 
er of the late Robert 
Harron. But "Johnny 
is a wonderful boy," 
she sighs — and admits 
that she thinks a great 
deal of him. Their 
friendship dates back 
to their childhood, 
when Marjorie and her 
kid brother. Chandler, 
Robert and Johnny 
went around together 
at the old Triangle 

•— — — Marjorie Daw says she isn't 

A current rumor has engaged to Johnny Harron but 
It that Frank Law- admUs "e s a wonderful boy. 

rence. former editor-in-chief of Universal, has 
offered Carl Laemmle $75,000 for the "trim- 
mings" from "Foolish Wives." The name of 
Dale Fuller is linked with the rumor. Dale 
played a servant role and it is believed that, with 
the shooting of a few additional scenes, an entire 
picture may be contrived from the "cuttings" of 
scenes in which 3he appeared. It isn't everybody 
who can sell the contents of his waste-basket! 

Elmer Sheeley, the art director, was suffering 
from a toothache. And a street corner late at 
night is no place to entertain a toothache. His 
dentist hove in sight. 

"Gee, Doc, I wish you were in your swell 
office. Gotta fierce toothache." 

The dentist informed him an office wasn't at 
all essential and produced a pair of pliers. Elmer 
braced himself against a water plug: — and the 
cruel deed was done. 

Cecil B. De Mille is due home soon. He can- 
celled his trip to Africa because of rheumatism. 
Quite sure it wasn't lions, Mr. De Mille? 

"Snub" Pollard had to put a dollar into the 
penalty box, an institution in force at the Hal 
E. Roach studios for those who pull off a bad 
pun. "Snub" was wondering who is better 
known, X-Ray or Charles Ray. "Snub" is 
going to get married to Marie Mosquini pretty 

Louise Dresser settled down in nearby Glen- 
dale for the winter. But I never heard of any- 
body lingering very long in Glendale. Sure 
enough, Louise soon was lured over to the R-C 
studio to play with her old friend, Pauline 

Mother "Peg" Talmadge has gone back East 
to gather up a couple of dozen trunks of clothes 
that Norma and Constance overlooked in their 
pilgrimage hither. 

Saw Conrad Nage! 
down on the beach yes- 
terday afternoon, 
sprinting just as if he 
were going to win a cup 
or something. He used 
to be prize sprinter at 
college. And that's the 
way he keeps in condi- 
tion now, before an au- 
dience composed of his 
wife, the lovely Ruth 
Helms, and baby Ruth 
Margaret, who is prei 
ty near half-past-one 
and the darlingest sm a ! ! 
piece I ever saw. Papa 
had bought her a beau- 
tiful balloon — her first 

a _J ,U, wa9 oMred „f Co ""» ' V °* e ' spends a lot of 

—ana sne was scared or tim) , prlnUng up an j j own ln€ 

the thing! beach — with wifie watching. 

Match 25, 1922 


Page Twenty-three 

JM,y Start in Pictures 

By Jack Holt 

/CAME to California after several years in 
Alaska and on the Oregon ranges. I didn't 
hate much money and was anxious to get 
a job. Back East I had had some experience 
on the stage, and when I learned that a new 
movie company was mahjng a picture at San 
Rafael, not far from where I was located. I 
applied for a part. I was offered a job as a 
"double" for one of the principal players, and 
took it- 

The picture was called "Salomy Jane," and 
Beatrice Michelena and House Peters played 
the leads. Bill Nigh directed and assumed a 

One of the functions of a good "double" is to 
slay far enough away from the camera so that 
the difference between him and the original 
won't be discovered. Consequently 1 wasn't 
particularly thrilled by breaking into the movies, 
for I hardly knew there was such a thing as a 
camera around. I was even out of ear-shot of 
the machine. 

Even when 1 saw "Salomy Jane" on the 
screen, I couldn't get a "kick" oul °f ''• 1 
couldn't find myself among the mob of extras. 

Still, I liked the work- I stuck to it. and it 
wasn't so long before J was playing real parts. 
Now I wouldn't leave the profession for the 
world. The folks here at the studio are fine, 
and I'm having the time of my life. 

By Constance Binney 

/WAS very glad, when I made my movie debut, 
that I had a sister and that she was playing 
in the same picture with me. You see, my 
sister Faire had had considerable studio experi- 
ence, and she was able to explain to me, who had 
never done anything but stage work, how to 
make up for the camera, gel the right cinema 
tempo, and so on. 

My first picture was "Sporting Life," one of 
Maurice Toumeur's big out-door melodramas. 
I recall that I didn't care especially for the 
scenes that were made inside the studio— the 
lights bothered my eyes — but there were lots of 
dogs and horses in the outdoor episodes, and 
! had a fine time. And, of course, it was awfully 
nice that Faire and I were able to be together. 
It was the first and only time we have ever 
appeared in the same picture. 

I recall that in the cast of "Sporting Life" 
were Holmes Herbert, Warner Richmond, and 
Ralph Graves, who has since done so well with 
D. W. Griffith. 

I was very ignorant as to how to act before 
the camera, and Mr. Tourneur had to spend 
hours explaining things to me. I shall never 
believe that getting excited easily is a charac- 
teristic of Frenchmen, for he was very patient, 
and I owe a great deal of my education in pic- 
ture fundamentals to him 

Page Twenty-four 


March 25, 1922 

PFelch the bolshevik 

By Carleton Armstrong 

S'POSIN' you had youth, and a beautiful wife, and a job as a movie 
star paying you umpty-hundreds-of dollars every week, and a classy 
little apartment, and dogs, and everything like that — wouldn't you 
be pretty contented? 

So would I. So would most people. 

But Niles Welch isn't. 

"I'm a Bolshevik," he assured me, "I'm agin' everything." 

The Welch family lold me they had two "children. 
Then they showed 'em to me. Here they are. 

To say truth, I don't believe Niles is always 
as unhappy as he was that morning. You see. 
it was a sort of blue-funk day. Soggy gray 
clouds dripped down an intermittent cold 
drizzle. Oh, it was a fine day — strictly in 
atmospheric accord with the murder of your 
mother-in-law, but that's about all. 

In addition to which, just a few moments 
before Charlie Duprez. Mr. Selznick's demon 
photographer, and myself rang the bell, 
a telegram had arrived informing Mr. and 
Mrs. Welch that some $10,000 worth of fur- 
niture they had left in Hollywood had been 
totally destroyed by fire. 

"And the worst of it is," said Mrs. Welch, 
"I had it insured for full value, and my policy 
paid up three years in advance — but my 
brother moved it to another house a few 
weeks ago — and didn't notify the insurance 
company. And now my attorneys tell me 
that makes the entire policy no good. We 
can't collect a cent. We're just naturally ten 
thousand dollars out. Pleasant news to 
greet you at the breakfast table, isn't it?" 

Friend husband — wife, incidentally, calls 
him "Honey" — sighed resignedly, 

"Oh. what's the difference?" he murmured. 
"It's just another punch on the nose. I'm 
getting used to them." 

From all of which you may gather that it 
was not a particularly auspicious day for an 

interview. Charlie and I half rose to go — then we looked out the window, 
saw that drizzling rain, and sat down again. 

Following the approved course (see any correspondence school lesson on 
how to interview a movie star), we tried to engage Sir Niles on the subject 
of his art. 

The effort was a failure. 

"Art — hell," said our hero. "No art to it. You just get before the 
camera — and the director tells you you're supposed to be experiencing 
such-and-such an emotion — and you do it. That's all there is to it. You 
do it so often, it gets to be almost second nature. It isn't really hard to do 
at all. 

"For instance, suppose a director were to come in here and tell me to 
register misery. Believe me, boy, today that would be a cinch." 

1 had an idea. I do get 'em sometimes. "Suppose." I murmured. "Just 
suppose he told you to register great gobs of joy." 

Sir Niles hesitated. Then: "I guess if he told me that today. I'd have 
to quit my job — no! I forgot! I can't quit my job now. Not with that 
$10,000 loss staring me in the face." 

Mrs. Niles had been rustling mysteriously about in another room. Now 
she appeared with the reason therefor. Something dark red, and very 
nice, in long glasses. Mr. Volstead probably wouldn't like it — or rather 
Mr. Volstead might like it very much, but he certainly wouldn't approve. 
At least not in public. 

We disposed of what the lady brought in, and right away everybody felt 
more cheerful. 

"Want to see our family?" asked Mrs. Welsh. 

"Why." I gasped. "I didn't know *' 

"Oh, yes." said Mrs. Niles, brightly. "Two of 'em. I'll bring 'em in." 

So she disappeared — and came back a moment later followed by two of 

the most beautifully ugly English bull-dogs I have ever seen. Snow-white, 

they are — and looking for all the - world like it would tickle them to death 

to eat you up. 

"But they won't," Sir Niles assured me, and then added: "unless they 
eat you up with love." 

The dogs, I was informed, are blue-ribbon winners in many a show. 
They are a breeding pair. Mrs. Welch plays "mama" to the he-dog. Sir 
Niles is "daddy" to the more deadly of the species. 

We talked dogs a-while, and Sir Niles was almost cheerful — dogs and 
horses being his pet hobbies — until he chanced to look out of the window 
into his back yard. 

I forgot to state that the Welch menage is located on the first floor of 
one of those two-hundred-dollar-a-week apartment houses in the really 
aristocratic section of Greenwich Village. If you doubt the price — or the 
aristocracy — go down and see for yourself. 

"Look at that yard." quoth Sir Niles. "I ask you — just look! And to 
think I had to come away from my beloved California for — this! I ! 

"So far as that's concerned, look at this apartment," he went on. "So 
darned dark we have to keep the electric lights burning at high noon, in 
order to see our wa y around. Look at our kitchen — so small Mrs. Welch 
has to go outside to change her mind. 

"Why out in Hollywood we had a whole bunga- 
low — with every room in it as big as this whole 
apartment — and it cost us less rent for the house 
than it does for this chicken coop, too — a whole 
lot less. 

"I take it you are not overly in love with 
New York," I murmured. 

"I am not," said Sir Niles succinctly. "Why 
should I be? I love to ride horseback. The best 
I gef here is the subway. I like nature. All I 
get here is crowds and smoke-stacks. 1 love 
outdoors, and exercise. Out West I can get both. 
Here — well. I can take the dogs out for a walk — 
in the back yard." 

Mrs. Welch interjected. 
"Speaking of back yards," she said sweetly, 
"it might help some if you cleaned out that dis- 
graceful and disreputable pile of lumber out 
there. I have a faint recollection of your 
announcing you needed exercise. There's your 
chance. Honey. There's your big chance." 
{Continued on page 30) 


"You complain about 
the back yard," said 
Mrs. Welch, "but I don't 
see you cleaning it out. 
Going to get busy?" 

Niles sat dou)n on 

a /lock oj two-bjj-tour scantlings 
the general unhappiness of life. 

and meditated ori 

March 25, 1922 


Page Tuienty-fivcf 

While we don't thint 
the string of pearls exactly 
necessary, still, we don't 
complain when anyone 
can look as fetching as 
Madge Bellamy does in 
this half negligee of Georg- 
ette with lace sleeces and a 
gown of crepe de chine. 

Here is Dorothy Dick- 
son attired for a session 
with her favorite author 
just before retiring. The 
half negligee is of Georg- 
ette with lace and mara- 
bout trimming, while the 
gown is of orchid crepe de 
chine with a lace neck- 

Left — Dorothy Dalton is 
rather fastidious, even when 
sleepy. She wears a full 
negligee of Georgette heavily 
embroidered in pastel colored 
silk, flecked with silver, and 
the gown is cut full and sweep- 
ing, of floor length. 

Right—Elsie Ferguson is 
the wearer and designer of this 
robe of the Empire period, 
made of palest pink satin com- 
bined with cream colored 
Duchess lace. A two-inch 
moire canary-yellow ribbon 
fastens between shoulders and 
ties in front, 

Page Twenty^six 


March 25, 1922 

breakfast ypith "Ben Turpin 

By Bob Dorman 

WHEN can we have an interview?" we 
asked Ben over the 'phone. "Come 
out to breakfast tomorrow morning 
and have some ham and eggs with me and the 
wife." said Ben. 

"Whenever you want me," added Ben. "you 
can find me on the front steps. I don't go out 
much except on Sundays. I'm strong for the 
front steps. It's a life-long habit of mine, sittin' 
out and watchin" the world go by. You see some 
funny things from a front door-step and I sup- 
pose people goin' by say the same thing when 
they look at me." 

We arrived next morning just as Ben was going 
to the grocery store. His wife playfully pulled 
his ear as he marched down the steps of their 

"If you come back from that grocery store 
without the eggs, I'll pull your ear again," she 

Ben complains that he has a poor grocery store 

steps either. 1 1 broke us up pretty bad when 
the toddle went out of fashion but we still have 
the waltz, and a variation of the fox trot to 
fall back upon. We turn on the phonograph 
when we want a dance at home. 
Some evenings I come home 
tired from the studio and find 
nothing more relaxing than a 
good book. But if the 
wife starts to play the 
piano when I 'm read- 
ing I go off in a snore 
in about five minutes. 
A wife has to be an 
accomplished musi- 
cian to be able to do 

"I understand the 
'Washington John- 

Ben always prepares breakfast and then his wife 
cooks some food. 

"It's a childhood growth." he says. "When I 
was a boy if they sent me to the store for a gallon 
of gasoline, I came back with a package of sala- 
ratus. Even now I get all balled up when the 
grocer says: 'Anything else?' I just can't think 
on my feet in a grocery store when a lot of cus- 
tomers are hanging around waiting for me to 
finish ordering." 

Then, as an afterthought, Ben added: "I like 
a good breakfast. No grabbing off a cup of 
coffee and a bun for me. I get up good'n early, 
shave carefully and then sit down with the 
morning paper and eat leisurely. There were 
days when the wife and I couldn't afford a maid, 
but now we have one to serve breakfast. Give 
me a good grapefruit, ham and eggs and toast 
and a piping hot cup of coffee, and I start the 
day right." 

After breakfast Ben turned on the phonograph. 

"Dance? Sure the wife and I can dance," said 
Ben. "And don't think we can't do the new 

The comedian can throw his voice in almost as 
many ways at once as his eyes can look. 

nie' has gone out," mused Ben. "Too bad. it 
was a good step. The wife and I are learning 
the camel walk now. We had just mastered the 
Tia Juana Jerk when that 'Frisco Johnnie' step 
came in and we had to drop it. I like the shuffle 
too. even though it is jerky. But for a real natty 
step, give me the Palo Hop. With a fox-trot 
time it's a cuckoo." 

Ben has two pets — "Cock-eyed Cecelia," his 
parrot, and "Cross-eyed Charlie," an aged, 
gray-whiskered little dog given to him by an 
admirer some years ago. The dog has a slant 
in his left optical orb with a remarkable resem- 
blance to Ben's money-making X-eye. 

Ben's parrot is never far off. You can believe 

"/ like an 
open car, and 
the wife likes a 
closed one, so we com- 
promised and got a sedan." 

it or not, but Ben wants 
the bird with him al- 
ways. "I'm supersti- 
tious," says Ben. "That 
bird not only can talk, 
but it has human intelli- 
gence. It stays by me 
just like the warning- 
bird does on the back of 
hippopotamus. The 
parrot warns me against 
strangers who may want to take my week's 
salary away from me — ^oil-stock sellers and the 

'If one of those human birds of prey come 
around, Cecelia will flutter her tail feathers and 
shriek: 'Get away from me with your stale 
crackers. Out, you soft-boiled egg. Vamoose, 
you son of a bum.' " 

Clemenceau recently had the unusual privi- 
lege of unveiling his own statue — a function 
which usually takes place thirty to a hundred 
years after the distinguished one has been slid 
into a mausoleum niche— but Ben Turpin also 
has not been overlooked by his admirers. 

A company has recently been formed in Chi- 
cago which is putting on the market tens of 
thousands of Ben Turpin statuettes. They sent 
one to Ben. 

"Best likeness I ever had moulded," says Ben. 
"Caricature? Ridiculous! It couldn't have been 
more faithfully cast if I had laid down and had 
plaster of Paris poured all over me and a death 
mask made of my face. My wife says it's 
better'n any photograph I ever had taken." 

Ben's hobby is ventriloquism. He has a 
"stuffed lad," such as the professional ventrilo- 
quist uses, and can do some remarkable voice- 
throwing. If Ben ever left pictures he could go 
into vaudeville with that ventriloquist act which 
he occasionally "pulls" for his friends. 

"Yep, I get lots of fan mail," says Ben. "I 
once got a letter from a girl who said she admired 
me. 1 framed it. No others have come in since. 
However, the kids write me tons of letters. 
And that's the kind of praise I like. When my 
'kid mail' slackens I begin to worry. Right now 
(Continued on page 30) 

March 25, 1922 

ffoVio Ge^ 

The Quickest Way to Get 
Before the Camera 

Pictured for PANTOMIME by Earl Metcalf 
Charles Duprez, of Selznick., at the Camera 

Every movie star receives hundreds and hun- 
dreds of letters from ambitious movie fans. 
Many of them tell of the wonderful talents 
they control and write in to their favorite and 
ask him or her. as the case may be, just about 
how they should go about getting before the 
camera. Very, very few wish to start at the 
bottom and we herewith submit a sample of let- 
ter that is received. Mr. Earl Metcalf decided 
to go to great expense and illustrate for the 
movie fans the quickest way he knows of. Here 
they are. Read 'em — then do 'em — although, 
of course, we don't insist on it. 


i.^^.k $«~\. v^A ^tJU T*~~~. 
jgj^ Ptfc~ xaXt JL— "V -&L -ISM" 

y£^ c~A 4fc~ "v <—« •#• "*«• 

V,^ "t?" SCA -W«U "tw. tt.^^ 

Page Twenty-seven 


"\i\\i V)ty&~kr*\ 

Jump the fence at 
the studio. 

Push your way 

roughly past the 

man at the studio 


Then, if you haee a clear mad. dash into the studio and make 
a lump for the camera 

Of course, it may end this way. BUT faint heart never 
ulon fair lady 

Page Twenty-eight 


March 25, 1922 

The JFHttle Qirt r#/fh the Qhristmas Tree 8yes 

SUPPOSE you were a little lady of just six 
summers, and had been a motion picture 
actress for most five years and had played 
with such stars as Mary Piclcford and Will 
Rogers — now wouldn't you be puffed up to the 

Most anybody would. But Jeanette isn't — 
little Jeanette Trebaol, that actress half-portion 
in size but whose future promises much. Many 
an older actress would give her best pink silk 
frock — and at least two initials from her Good 
Name) — for chances that have come, almost 
unasked, to the youngest Trebaol. 

The last time -I saw Jeanette she had just 
finished a role with Will Rogers in "A Poor Rela- 
tion" at the Goldwyn studio and was bewailing 
the fact that they'd never let her play "dress-up" 
parts. "I'm always so raggedy,' moaned prim- 
rose lips, as she investigated her reflection in 
the mirror of my handbag. "They never let 
me look nice. And I could with a little fixin'." 

"But, Jeanette," I reminded her, "it takes a 
real actress to play character roles." 

"Yes, but Mama says I'm not a real actress," 
Jeanette confessed ruefully. "They just tell me 
I am, so's not to hurt my feelings. That's all 

Refreshing in this day of the wisdom of cellu- 
loid-children, isn't it? 

Jeanette makes me think of my little niece in 
St. Louis. She is that "natural" kind of a child 
—not beautiful in the accepted standard of the 
stage's artificiality, but wholesome, sweet, child- 
ishly sincere, and just a wee bit mischievous. 
There's always a prankishness that seems to 
bubble just beneath her poise. 

Jeanette has eyes that are a study in them- 
selves: one moment they dream of fairylands 
beyond the ken of grown-ups, and the next 
sparkle like a Christmas tree, alight with an 
inward flame of cheer, lights that have hidden 
caverns back of them. They are swiftly pene- 
trating, wide-open. 

She has a habit of sending her thoughts into 
imaginative crannies and pulling out the most 
astonishing opinions! One feels already an 
unconscious ' groping, a differentiation between 
the real and the artificial— you ought to hear her 
scornful opinion of certain affected actresses! 

Her mother is striving to develop in the child 
an analytical attitude that later will be a deter- 
mining factor in keeping Jeanette's feet upon the 
earth and her head out of the clouds. For her 
recent work has proved that Jeanette has a 
decided future. 

Jeanette is the youngest of thirteen children. 

By Margaret Maurice 

nine of whom are "in pictures." But she is the 
most famous of Trebaol & Co. And she started 
the others traveling via the Family Ford to the 
daily life of Make-Believe at the studios. She 
first "acted" at the tender age of eighteen months, 
with Mary Pickford in ' Stella Maris"; and 
between those days of infancy and her present 
mature popularity (the popularity is mature, if 
Jeanette isn't) were years of hard work. She has 
been sister to Tony Moreno — for which she is 
envied by many young ladies; she has appeared 
with George Beban, Earle Williams, Will Rogers, 
Mary Pickford and goodness knows how many 
others I — Jeanette, to be perfectly frank, has for- 
gotten alt their names! 

Father Jean, daddy of all this brood, suffered 
a loss of mental faculties and disappeared while 
in service during the World War. While teaching 
the soldiers at one of the army training camps he 
complained of a terrific headache, went out for a 

"Mama says I'm not a real actress,' Jeanette 

confessed ruefully. "They just tell me I am. so's 

not to hurt my feelings." 

walk— and never returned. Mother Trebaol 
believes that he is living somewhere, unaware of 
his identity. And this is one reason why she is 
anxious for her children to attain success on the 
screen believing that perhaps Father Jean will 
see their faces on the silversheet and recall his 
home life. Baby Jeanette was his favorite 
among the children — and wouldn't it be wonder- 
ful if her screen-self would be the instrument 
of restoring Father Jean's memory? 

Jeanette is not a coquette. She boasts but 
two lovers — all too few for a young lady of her 
charm. The men she has chosen for her life- 
mates are Will Rogers and James Young; and 
the fact that they forgot to wait for her and got 
themselves other wives does not deter her in the 
slightest. She's willing to share 'em — with 

James Young, by the way, is the director who 
persuaded Jeanette to stop being cry-baby and 
become a real actress. She had appeared in many 
pictures but always would she set up a great 
wailing when she faced the camera. The mother 
was even censured for making the child go 
through with something so obviously terrifying; 

"But it was a senseless fear — and I wanted her 
to overcome it," says Mrs. Trebaol. "I didn't 
want her to grow up with the memory of having 
been forced to do something unpleasant." And 
finally, when Jimmy Young was directing Earle 
Williams in "The Rogue's Romance." he so com- 
pletely won Jeanette's admiration with the deft 
way he had of handling her that she lost, for 
always, her fear of the camera. 

Jeanette thinks Mary Pickford "nice." 

She is told that her own success is nothing 
unusual; she accepts her work as part of her 
life; she feels none of the glamour of the child 
who watches the silversheet in the dim theatre, 
with its play of make-believe. To Jeanette 
there is no illusion: one goes to the studio, one 
does what the director says and one accepts the 
adulation as a part of it all. For to her, with her 
French blood, love and kindness are the most 
natural things in the world. . She knows 

nothing else. 

1 asked her what she intends becoming when 
grown-up, expecting an eager, "stenographer," 
or "society lady" or "mother." But Jeanette 
sighed and answered regretfully, "Oh, I guess 
I'll have to just be a movie actress — that's all 
lean do." 

"AH" she can do, perhaps! But how many 
children in this fair land envy this little girl 
with the Christmas-tree eyes her life in the land 
of pantomime! 

Here's the entire 7 rebaol family -thirteen of 'em — and eccry last one in the movies. Jeanette. the youngest, heads the bunch. 

"Why Girls MaRe tfw Movies! 


Some Girls think the movies -other girls like to 
a chance to work outdoors! work inside 1 . 

Some girls simply must 
have a thrill \ 



-. « 

Zl" " i' lu ' l /*$&r^\ NNN 

Some Girls think the movies 
a chance to get all dressed up! 


Page Thirty 


March 25,1922 



By ■ Staff Correspondent 


"The hardest task I ever had to perform in 
pictures," declared Thomas Meighan, "was when 
all I had to do was to make a speech before a 
woman's club. It wasn't even a real woman's 
club, either, but just a movie gathering in one 
of the scenes for "Our Leading Citizen," the 
'members' being extra people hired for the occa- 

"I was very nervous," admitted the star, "and 
when Alfred Green, the director, told me to 
start in, I felt tongue-tied. But finally I launched 
forth into a diatribe concerning a subject that is 
pretty close to my heart. The speech was sup- 
posed to be an argument for a public playground 
in the town and I stated that charity to children 
was one of the most wonderful forms of charity. 
So I got through with it, but I'm still shaky!" 

"Girls, the clothes that Mae Murray wears in 
'Peacock Alley' will give you a thrill, I imagine. 
Boys, the clothes that she doesn't wear will- — er 
— er — command your attention, I'm sure." 

Such was the comment recently of Norman 
Clark, photoplay critic of the Baltimore News. 

Mae's husband, Robert Z. Leonard, directed 
"Peacock Alley." Mae appears as a Parisian 

Thomas Meighan first met the present Mrs. 
Meighan (Frances Ring) while playingin "The 
College Widow," one of George Ade's plays. 
Which might be accounted one of the reasons for 
his strong friendship for the humorist. Mr. 
Meighan is at the present time starring in a new 
picture founded on a story especially written for 
him by Mr. Ade. entitled "Our Leading Citizen." 

Harry Beaumont, the Metro director, saw 
one of the "extra" actors'of his company in the 
midst of festive revels in Los Angeles one night. 
The next morning the actor appeared at the 
studio looking ill and asked to be excused for 
the day. 

"I've got a 'head'," he explained. 

"That s no way to get ahead," said Mr. Beau- 
mont, giving the "extra" his next-time-you're- 
fired warning. 

"The real flapper," says Viola Dana, "is 
easily spotted in the winter time. You always 
see her with her goloshes flapping." 

Gareth Hughes says stardom has brought with 
it so many tips about how he might invest his 
salary that if he took them up, he would be 
tipped from his balance. 

Director Maxwell Karger had become enraged 
at the stupidity of an actor hired as an extra, 
an actor who had a genius for doing the wrong 
thing. "I'd like to brain him," said Mr. Karger. 
heatedly. But then he reflected: "It couldn't 
be done." 

Fannie Hurst, who recently created a stir in 
film circles by denouncing a photoplay based on 
one of her short stories, has finally found an 
adaptation of one of her works that gives her 
great delight. The picture is "The Good Pro- 
vider." a Cosmopolitan Production recently 
completed under the direction of Frank Borzage. 

The people of Los Angeles say that when Ceci 
B. De Mille named his new picture "Fool's 
Paradise," he had San Francisco in mind. 

In order to insure the editors agatrut the inquiry 
being a publicity trick,, to win extra mention of some 
particular actor or actress, all questions must be signed 
by the writer's name and address. This is for our own 
information and wtll not be published unless desired. 
In case a personal answer is desired, enclose a self -ad- 
dressed, stamped envelope with your question. Personal 
answers will be made the day the query is recetoed. 
Others will be printed as soon as circumstances permit. 

Virginia F. — Conway Tearle is 40 years old 
and is married to Adele Rowland, He may be 
reached at the Lambs' Club, New York City. 
He is to be the leading man opposite Norma Tal- 
madge in "The Duchess of Langeais." Wanda 
Hawley is 26 years old and is married to J. B. 
Hawley. Oh. no, Virginia, you may ask as many 
questions as you please. I can always answer 

Eileen — "Theodora" is an Italian picture. 
Address Niles Welch at 1616 Gardner Street, 
Hollywood, Cal. _ He is Elaine Hammerstein'a 
leading man in "Why Announce Your Mar 
riage?" Jack Mulhall has left New York City 
for the Coast. 

Nanette — Wallace Reid's latest picture is 
"The World's Champion." It seems to us that 
he is the "world's champion" in love-making 
Rodolf Valentino achieved his greatest triumph 
in "The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse." 
Since then he has what you might call "run away 
with the people." 

Blonde — John Barrymore is 40 years old. 
Address him at the Lambs' Club. New York 
City. Natalie Talmadge is the second oldest 
of the Talmadge sisters. 

*An Irish Lyric 

{Continued from page 7) 

through a crystal haze. Goldwyn's "The Wall 
Flower" was just an ice-cream-soda served up as 
a five-course dinner, in which Colleen applied 
modern and feminine psychology to the task of 
winning a male and taught the neglected sister- 
hood a few new tricks. But her work firmly 
established her as star-stuff, if, indeed, her past 
characterizations left any doubt of it. She has 
just finished "Sent For Out," written for her by 
Rupert Hughes and in which she is featured. 
She is considering at present several very flatter- 
ing offers. 

Colleen's days fairly sing with color. She 
herself seems shot with gold, from her burnished 
red hair to the melody always rollicking upon 
her lips. ' Life to her just now is an ice-cream 
soda, fizzing and bubbling on top with deeper 
joys beneath — she is delving now for the cherry 
and I wouldn't be surprised at any hidden mir- 
acles that she will bring out of her life. For she 
has tenfold that joyous Irish gift for finding 

She makes me think of that line, "Youth eats 
miracles with its breakfast not knowing that 
they are not porridge." She has a springtime 
manner and a merry twinkle in her Irish eyes 
and, with her fluffy red hair, seems as if she had 
sprung from the Sun-fire itself. 

More power to ye. Colleen, lass! 

Tour Chance to Qet into the 
•Jtfovies at $100 a Week 

{Continued from page 2 1 ) 

known players of the screen attracted the atten- 
tion necessary for their rapid advancement 
through the small opportunity offered by this 
position. Marie Prevost, Jacqueline Logan and 
(Catherine McGuire are three who have risen to 
the heights in a remarkably short time. 

Not many months ago all three of these young 
players were members of the "bathing beauties." 
Miss Prevost is now with Universal Film Com- 
pany, being starred in pictures and the head of a 
production unit. Miss Logan holds the same 
enviable position with Goldwyn Pictures Miss 

McGuire, while playing small parts, was selected 
to play the only feminine role in the Laurence 
Trimble-Jane Murfin production, "The Silent 
Call." and is now back with the Sennett Com- 
pany, but as a principal. 

The salary which will be paid the winners is far 
greater than probably any other actress ever 
received for her first effort. Mary Pickford, 
probably the greatest money maker in pictures 
today, got five dollars a day when she started, 
and was paid only for the days she actually 

Whether or not the four winners of the PAN- 
TOMIME contest will have the fortune or 
ability of any of the young women mentioned 
here is something to be decided. Even if they 
never have another motion picture engagement, 
the time that they will spend as a member of the 
cast will be one of the most fascinating experi- 
ences they could ever have in a lifetime, and 
they will be paid $100 a week while enjoying it. 

Mr. Rapf and Mr. Nigh will be the sole judges 
of the contest. They are the men who are mak- 
ing the productions, risking their money and 
reputations in them, so that it can be certain 
that no other reason except an honest belief 
on their part that the successful entry is fitted 
for success in motion pictures will have anything 
to do with their selection. 

Other details and the entry blank are printed 
on Page 31 of this issue of PANTOMIME. If 
you are between the ages of eighteen and twenty- 
five and never have been in pictures, fill out the 
entry blank and send it in for you may be one 
of the lucky "Big Four." 

'Breakfast ivith Ben Turpin 

(Continued from page 28) 

it's coming in fine. I don't ask theatre-owners. 
'How did you like that last picture?' I sit tight 
and wait for the verdict of the kids." 

Ben Turpin's best friend is Charlie Chaplin. 
They go duck hunting together many week ends. 
(And here's a tip to those Eastern fan maga- 
zines: The favorite week-end sport of Chaplin, 
Thomas H. Ince, Mack Sennett and Ben Turpin 
is potting the elusive mallard. No chance of a 
cameraman following them for a snap, however 

The trips are incog, sub rosa, entre-nous. And 
always to a different rendezvous.) 

"Usually on Sundays," says Ben, "the wife 
and I get into the car and go. I like an open car 
but the wife prefers a closed vee-hay-kul. As 
you^see, we compromised by getting a closed 

There's nothing "Ritzy" about Ben. When 
it came time to leave for the studio he gave his 
wife a long and tender good-bye kiss, despite the 
presence of the interviewer. 

"No husband should leave his wife in the 
morning without a good-bye kiss," says Ben. 
"More divorces are caused by not kissing the 
wife good-bye than anything else. There's an 
art in it, too," says Ben. "First I kiss the wife. 
Then I turn my cheek and let the wife kiss me. 
We get double measure that way. And we both 
start the day feeling O. K." 

They tell this story on Ben. Mack Sennett 
wanted him to sign a contract giving him more 
money. _ Ben saicl he didn't want a contract. 

"Don't need a contract." said Ben. "Just tell 
the cashier to give me my money every week 
and that will do. When people want to break up 
a partnership, contracts don't amount to much. 
You want to give me too much money. Mr. 
Sennett. I wouldn't know what to do with a 
salary like that. No man can honestly earn so 

And that's not a press agent's yarn, either. 

Welch the Bolshevik 

(Continued from page 24) 

Sir Niles seemed perfectly willing to change 
the subject. Friend wife wasn't. She persisted. 
Finally they went out in the much-discussed yard 
itself, to talk it oyer. 

The lumber consisted of a jumbled pile of 
two-by-four scantling. Sir Niles looked at it 
dubiously, while his better three-quarters ex- 
plained in detail just what to do with it— and 
how much it would improve the appearance of 
the yard. 

When we left Sir Niles was sitting on that pile 
of lumber thinking it over. 

But Charlie Duprez tells me he was back at 
the apartment two days later, and that lumber 
hadn't been touched. 

March 25 1922 


Page Thirty -vtu 

Four Jobs in the Movies Open to You 

Each Paying $ 1 00 a Week 


PANTOMIME has made arrangements The winner of the role in the first picture 

with Warner Brothers to place four of our will be selected on May 7. 1922, and wil' 
readers in the Movies begin work on May 1 5. 

These four readers will be given real 
parts in forthcoming productions and will 
be paid $100 weekly. 


Beauty, of course, will not hurt but it is 
not essential. 

PANTOMIME and Warner Brother.- 
are looking not only for beauty, but fo.' 

If you think you have a face, and the 
ability to make a movie actress -In any 
sod of a role— send your answers to ques- 
tions on entry blank. Send it to PAN 
TOMIME, together with a photograph ol 

Mr. Harry Rapt and Mr. Will Nigh, 
producer and director of the productions 
in which the winners will appear, will be 
the judges. 

That's all there is to it. No fee. No 
charge of any kind. 

Just send a photograph of yourself to 
PANTOMIME, 1600 Broadway, New 

Pictures of Contestants will be printed 
from week to week in PANTOMIME. 

Here are the pictures in which the jobs 
are waiting for you : 





All contestants for this role must have 
their pictures in the office of PANTO- 
.MIME not later than May I, 1922. 






1600 BUOADw-av 


v -. 31W.M 

UH or- ::.- *h: 

• f. ftu.traiK* 

. .- :---«. 

.»- .'£/*. J.H 


T-«r f.r 

' -.f .,-a.ii.,: '-.if .- .r,v-: k ... . . if • ;•*:. la'.« rtU^H 
la'4 r r ,! ".f ri*' :*R. 

Fstfr /--?■; notn *;li t- ■.-, i«n •** winner*. Jtaeii 

-*• «.*f .; " -.*,,: »i '-'. ' fl $:»•'. « |»r* .a •',* :»•* :r. ■ - 

' • ■ fj-r tz.f .-.eflHIMf :t«rry R»pf pr»4ufii:Q&» l ** jr-r. Mill r» 
i.#:r;^.:«l t »«r »r Br&thtni *n: w.ll fc* pMd JlOO ptr weHr 

?*■.• fair fartlwlng Wi*r:.«r K*tr«e*. iona »r». 

%*■*!• fvr:»a :f T-- r*.r- 
pr;--*- - t« t«6i« July l»*., l»« 

•^r»i»", *.-.* r.sttl *r , . - . , «- t. ;h*rl« 

te.-.iziui *t»l*y Safrjr, 
rti>, , : .-- 

-•»•?• .rr v -»jf ^i liU i.d. • r. i>.-*r ,.ii i.r- •, -. T '»- 
?• • «-. ( nr- i :U L-«.«* 9«M"."JIcaqb1 Bay*" »|t"«, Vt»l«V 
?«r.-*. «r.. •Tt-jf 3«.i Fr.— U" . i* V--« '.".C i i.-.r . 


" '••■ " ■ 


The winner of the role in the second 
picture will be selected June 24. and will 
begin work on July I. 1922. 

All contestants for this role must have 
their pictures in the office of PANTO- 
MIME not later than June 15. 1922. 

The winner of the role in the third pic- 
ture will be selected August 24, and will 
begin work September I, 1922. 

All contestants for this role must have 
their pictures in the office of PANTO- 
MIME not later than August 15, 1922. 

The winner of the role in the fourth 
picture will be selected October 8. and 
u ill begin work October 15, 1922. 

All contestants for this role must have 
their pictures in the office of PANTO- 
MIME not later than October 1,1922. 
















This blank is printed for your convoi 

ience Plain paper may be used 

to answer questions. 


Street Address ... 

City State 

Stage Name 

(// you intend adopting one) 

Age I (eight Weight 

Color of Eyes Color of Hair 


Reasons for wanting to get into the movies 

This Entry Blank must be accompanied 
by one or more photographs of the person 
named in it. One of the photographs 
must be without a hat. Mark the name 
and address plainly on the back of each 

S22.000.00 in PRIZE?